A Slipping Grip
by ishkaw
Summary: Lance decides to turn his life around by joining the high school's gymnastics team, resulting in a slow-forming friendship with Kurt. While Lance gradually changes himself, Kurt must handle unwanted attention from their coach. (Warning: slash (Lance/Kurt), non-con).
1. A New Start

**Warnings:**Later on (several chapters down the road), there will be sexual assault and non-con.

There will also be slash between Kurt and Lance, but it will be awhile as first they have to move past being enemies.

**Notes**: The only knowledge I have about male gymnastics is from watching it on TV during the Olympics and the brief internet research I did when I wanted to check something. So bear with me as I use this feeble knowledge and apply it to a high school setting. I'll try to keep the actual gymnastics part to a minimum.

It has also been a really long time since I've seen the show (minus the first season), so forgive me for inaccuracies. Also, this fic is AU in the sense of timeline and events that occurred in the show.

**A Slipping Grip**

**A New Start**

Lance hesitated at the doorway to the gym. Inside he could see that the gym had been transformed from its normal, squeaky basketball floors to a padded area with various apparatuses meant to showcase agility, balance and strength. This was his moment to decide. Should he finish what he started earlier when he asked Coach Trieg about joining the gymnastics team? Or should he just forget about his pledge to himself and walk away?

Undecided, he resettled his backpack on his shoulder as he watched as someone, a rather muscle-bound guy, jump and grab two rings that were dangling from some stretchy-looking bands. Muscles, as Lance deemed him, slowly lifted himself up - biceps straining, face contorted- until he had brought his body into the shape of a cross. Lance silently counted until Muscles couldn't last any longer and dropped to the mat beneath him. Watching as Coach Trieg roughly pulled Muscles to his feet to probably give pointers, Lance smirked to himself. He could do better. All he had to do was walk in to the gym.

"Alvers, there you are. Glad you could join us. Now get your butt in here." Lance looked up to see Coach Trieg striding towards him. His distinguished fading-blonde hair and tall form could be intimidating to some, but to Lance the Coach was just another stupid authority figure to disobey. He wanted to turn around right then but the Coach had already caught up to him and was dragging him inside.

"Practice starts at 5:00 sharp. I expect you to be here on time from now on."

Lance wanted to sneer and say something disparaging, but stopped himself. He was trying to change, to create something positive in his life. He couldn't do that by balking at every opportunity to do so. Besides, Trieg was still talking and pulling him forward.

"I was unsure of you, Alvers. But you showed up. That's commitment, and I like that." When Trieg finally let go of Lance's arm, Lance bought a hand up to rub where the Coach had gripped his bicep. He had clearly not eschewed working out himself. "You'll need to dress out in some form fitting clothes, no need for any athletic shoes. I'll have someone run you down on all the basics and introduce you to the team. Be like a mentor or such." Trieg scanned the gym for a second, obviously having someone in mind already. Spotting him, Trieg beckoned Lance to follow to a form with longish black hair stretching on the mat.

"You'll like him. Real nice guy. Very agile and good at…"

But Lance wasn't listening anymore. He had stopped a few feet away, a sneer already forming on his lips. He knew who Coach Trieg thought would be a "great" mentor to him, and there was no way in hell that Lance was going to follow some idiotic fuzzbrain around.

"Kurt, spare a moment for me."

Wagner stopped stretching and looked up at Trieg questioningly.

"Got some fresh blood for our team. I'd like you to help him out. Show him around. Introduce him to the rest of the team and give him some pointers. "

"Um, sure. No problem."

Lance noticed how Trieg gently helped Wagner up. Nope, no favoritism there. But now he was going to make sure he'd savor this moment. It was going to be good. Watching as Wagner slowly turned around, he enjoyed how the expression on his face turn from open and inviting to shock. "Lance?"

"The one and only."

"Oh good. You two know each other." Trieg was either completely oblivious to rising tension in the air or didn't care. "Perfect. Now I'm going to go and help Miguel out while you show Alvers around."

"Coach-"

"Wait!"

Both of them yelling out in unison stopped Trieg in his path. He turned around and regarded them. "Is something the matter?"

Lance glared at Wagner, but let him talk considering he was the one with an established relationship with the Coach.

"Well, I don't think I'm the best for this. See Lance and I-"

"Nonsense!" Trieg smiled kindly and put a reassuring arm around Wagner's shoulders. "You'll be just fine. You got a good handle on all of the equipment and have a good nature about yourself. I've got every faith in you." He squeezed Wagner's shoulder before heading off to Miguel who was having difficulty with a routine on the pommel horse.

"Well that was touching and heart-warming. Where's my bucket for puke?"

Wagner turned towards him, his face reflecting the same displeasure at being forced with each other's company. "What are you doing here?"

"Joining the gymnastics team. What does it look like I'm doing." Lance knew what Wagner meant but was having too much fun in riling him up. Besides, Lance sure as hell wasn't going to disclose to the furball his reasons for his atypical move.

"Why? You don't really seem like a team type."

"I am Brotherhood member, aren't I?"

"Yeah, as you guys have shown such great camaraderie and team spirit."

Wagner had him there but Lance wasn't going to concede that point. "Whatever. Aren't you supposed to be some great mentor or shit and introduce me to some other people so I don't have to look at your ugly face much longer."

Wagner rolled his eyes at him, but turned to look for someone that wasn't preoccupied. "Come on. I'll introduce you to Mark." Wagner started leading him towards a bench where the guy Lance had referred to as Muscles sat with a towel slung over his shoulders and was drinking from a water bottle. "Try to be nice to him. He's a good guy."

Lance huffed in response but followed Wagner.

"Who's this?" Mark asked as he ran his towel through his blonde hair damp with sweat. Mark's eyes didn't even seem to register that Kurt was there but stared straight to Lance. No greeting, a gruff question. Hopefully everyone on the team was more like this guy.

Lance wanted to butt in and not give the privilege of introducing himself to Wagner, but he figured Wagner was right. He should probably make a good impression. He didn't want to alienate everyone on the team and be left with Wagner to ask for help. Spare him the pain.

"This is Lance. He's going to be joining our team. Lance," Wagner gestured over to Muscles, "Mark. Mark is really awesome at the rings. Ask him to show you the ropes."

"Your puns are always awful, Kurt" Mark replied, not a lick of humor tracing his voice. Lance's spirits lifted. Maybe Mark was being brusque because he didn't like Wagner. Maybe he'd found someone who he could commiserate with over how annoying Wagner could be.

"Hey, I try." Unfazed by Mark's terse response, Wagner's voice still hosted a smile.

"I would hold out my hand," Mark directed towards Lance, "but considering I'm all covered in sweat, I doubt you'd want to shake it." Mark glanced between them, observing both of their warded body language. "Do you two know each other already?"

Lance exchanged a brief look with Wagner.

"_Ja. _Lance is in some of my classes." Lance had no problem with Wagner omitting the other half of their connection. Before Wagner had to launch into some kind of explanation of their unenthused reaction with each other, a voice spared them from the awkward conversation.

"Kurt! Do you think you could come help me?" Some brown-haired kid was slumped under the high bar, defeated by the apparatus.

"Yeah. One second," Kurt called back. "Mark, do you mind hanging out with Lance for a bit. Answer any of his questions?"

"No. Go help Trey out. He'll whine until you do."

"He just gets frustrated easily."

"_Kuuurt_!"

Mark raised an eyebrow at Kurt at the sound of Trey's plaintive cry. Wagner smiled slightly at that but didn't deny Mark's observation.

Lance watched Wagner run off to help Trey out, making sure to memorize who Trey was so he could do his best to avoid him. Realizing that he was finally free of Wagner, Lance let out a relieved sigh. Turning back to Mark, Lance figured he'd go ahead and do his best to win him over to his side while Wagner was occupied.

"I saw you practicing earlier." Lance nodded with his head towards the rings. "Seems pretty difficult."

"It is. Lots of the team really struggle with it. I'll show you how to use them since I'm probably the best at it."

"Yeah?"

Mark took another swig of water before nodding in affirmation. "It's probably Kurt's weakest apparatus."

Lance grinned and regarded Mark with an even higher esteem than before. "That's good to know. Coach Trieg was going on and on about how awesome Wagner is. Made me want to gag myself with my own saliva."

"Yeah, I don't like it."

"Right? I doubt he even deserves half the praise Trieg lavishes on him." Mark turned to look at Lance, but Lance was on a roll and took Mark's silence as approval to continue. "He's so annoying and is such a freak." He watched as Wagner animatedly talked to Trey as he helped him out. "He's just so-"

Mark stood up, cutting Lance off. While he wasn't any taller than Lance, his larger form demanded attention. "You've misjudged me. I know I come across as rude, but that's just the way I am. Doesn't mean I don't support my teammates."

Lance almost took a step back in deference to Mark, but anger rose up in him. Feeling defensive over his opinion – an accurate one at that - and cross that he'd misread Mark, Lance lashed out.

"Well, Wagner and I _don't_ get along."

Mark's grey eyes bored straight through Lance. "I don't care. Whatever the reason, I won't tolerate assholes on my team or someone acting like an asshole to a teammate. Calling someone a freak is _not _cool. Besides, I didn't see Kurt introducing you as the douchebag. "

"That's because he's probably going to tell you later how much he hates me. Be stupid to say it right in front of me."

"I think you've also misjudged Kurt." Before Lance could counter, Mark held up a hand and continued on. "Also, what I meant by 'not liking it' I meant that I don't like Trieg fawning over Kurt, and I know neither does Kurt. I don't like Trieg." Mark moved in front of Lance to gather his full attention. "Lance, I think you'd be good to have on this team. It'd be good to have someone else built like me. But I'd recommend dropping the attitude."

Before Lance could stew over that comment, Kurt returned.

"Trey okay, then?" Mark asked as he backed away from Lance and calmly sat back down on the bench like nothing had transpired.

"_Ja_, I think so. He wasn't getting enough momentum to do the full twist. Everything going ok here?"

Lance didn't fail to notice the trepidatious glance Wagner sent between the two. What did he think he was going to do? Mug Mark while he wasn't standing as a guard?

"Going well. About to show Lance the rings." Mark gestured over to the forlorn rings that swung slightly from the gym's A/C.

Lance was slightly surprised at Mark's willingness to still teach him but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to get stuck with Wagner any longer than needed.

"As long as you don't mind." Wagner seemed hesitant to leave them alone. What did he think Lance was going to do? Corrupt Mark? Turn him against him? As much as Lance wouldn't mind that, Mark already proved his loyalty.

"It's cool."

Wagner shrugged. "Sounds good. Just call me if you need me." With that Wagner took off, probably just as glad as Lance to be done with each other for the day.

Lance was afraid that Mark was going to keep droning on about playing nice, holding hands and singing "Kumbaya," but he just led him over and started teaching him techniques on wrapping his hands and putting on the hand grips.

After Lance got his hand grips settled and comfortable, Mark demonstrated how to grasp the rings and to pull himself up to a strength position.

"Give it a try," Mark said as he dropped down to the mat.

Lance shrugged and walked over to take the rings in hand. The hand grips felt weird as he grasped the rings, and lifting his body up was a challenge in itself. The rings were all wobbly and he felt like bait struggling on the end of a line. He realized he may have underestimated how tough the rings actually were. Lance dropped to the mat, shaking out his arms.

"Maybe we should build up some more muscles."

"I do lift weights," Lance defended himself.

"We need to target all muscles, especially the back ones. It'll help you keep the rings straight. Come on." Mark led Lance over to the weight rack and for the rest of practice they did various reps while chatting. Lance rather enjoyed it. It was nice learning something new, and Mark didn't seem inclined to bring up their initial kerfuffle. In fact, Mark was pretty good company. Straight and to the point and they seemed to have similar interests. Since Lance was in such high spirits, he decided he'd be magnanimous and overlook Mark's friendship with Wagner.

As practice wound down, Lance and Mark headed towards the locker room along with the rest of the team. Shrugging his sweat soaked shirt off, Lance realized with a bit shocked that he actually enjoyed himself today. He mentally patted his back, proud of his decision to take this chance.

"See you tomorrow then?" Mark asked as he closed his locker. He wouldn't mind hanging out with Mark more either. It'd be nice to have friends outside of the Brotherhood.

Lance nodded. "Tomorrow."

"Later, Kurt," Mark waved to the rear of the locker room as he left.

Wagner's reply came out muffled as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.

Lance didn't want to be the last one left with Wagner, so he hurried to pack up his things and get out of there. He haphazardly threw in his gym clothes and water bottle into his bag and began hurriedly lacing up his shoes.

Just as he sat up, ready to go, Wagner chose that moment to drop his things on the floor and sit on the bench across from him.

"So, after today, are you really joining the team?"

"Yeah, I am," Lance said defiantly. He had already made his decision but even if today had been a disaster, he might've still joined just for the satisfaction at seeing Wagner's disappointment.

Wagner ran a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. "Well, the team gets along really well …"

_And we don't, _Lance mentally finished Wagner's sentence in his head. He sat back and crossed his arms, curious as to what Wagner was going to propose.

"I don't want this to change the team dynamic so why don't we just not talk to each other at practice."

"So just pretend the other doesn't exist? Sounds fantastic. Though aren't you supposed to be my mentor, showing me around and shit."

Wagner shrugged. "You seem to be getting along with Mark. He won't mind."

"You'll probably be disappointing Trieg."

This time it wasn't Lance that caused Wagner to grimace. "Whatever. He can get over it."

Maybe Mark was right and Wagner didn't like Trieg's attention. Still, didn't change Lance's mind on what he already thought of Wagner.

"Good, then starting tomorrow you'll just be like an ant, beneath my notice."

Wagner didn't even deem that with a response – just picked up his stuff and left. Things were looking up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	2. A Slip in Judgment

**A Slip in Judgment**

Resting on a bench after just practicing his high bar routine, Kurt took a swig from his water bottle. He was pretty satisfied with the way his run-through had gone and was thinking of more challenging skills he'd like to add to his routine. He sometimes liked to make up moves, add his own flair, but for competitions, he'd need something the judges would appreciate.

He really didn't want to approach Trieg about learning a new skill. The coach just made him uncomfortable sometimes. A little too friendly, perhaps. Kurt wondered if it was just in his head, or he just hadn't had enough school experience and maybe some teachers were just like that. Well, he could always learn from videos online anyway; and besides, Trieg's knowledge of gymnastics was limited, having been focused more on football and other traditional high school sports.

Scanning the room to see if anyone needed a spotter, his eyes alighted on Mark and Lance practicing on the rings. In the past two weeks since Lance had joined the team, things had been going pretty well. For the most part. Lance mostly stuck by Mark or sometimes branched out to another teammate for help on various apparatuses. He'd pretty much followed their semi-truce and kept out of Kurt's way. Which was all nice and well, except Kurt couldn't help but feel a tension amongst the team since Lance's appearance. Trey had confided in him that some of the other guys were speculating on what caused the rift between him and Lance, and that they were a little unsure on how to act around them both. It was like everyone was walking on eggshells, and they hadn't even gotten to make an omelet.

Maybe he was partially to blame. He just couldn't feel comfortable around Lance, knowing he could wreck something actually normal for once in Kurt's life. He worried about what Lance was saying to Mark. He liked Mark and thought he was a nice guy, but what if Lance somehow turned him and then the rest of the team on him? It didn't help that Lance liked to throw threatening stares his way, as if challenging him. Like right now. He must've been caught staring as Lance was looking his way, a scowl crossing his features. He mouthed something to him, but Kurt couldn't figure out what it was he said. Probably better that way.

Maybe he should add a no looking at each other clause to their pact. He could imagine both of them walking around the lockers with their eyes closed, hands stretched forward and tripping over gym bags while trying to get changed. That brought a smile to his face, causing in turn Lance's grimace to be replaced with confusion. This time Kurt was able to read his lips and determine that Lance was questioning his sanity with a "What the fuck?"

Kurt almost laughed out loud until he felt a hand drape itself over his shoulder followed by Trieg sitting down next to him on the bench.

"I'm disappointed in you, Kurt."

Distracted by the shoulder around his back, it took a second for Kurt to process what Trieg had said to him. Kurt didn't have anything to say to that and figured Trieg would expound upon the topic anyway.

"Alvers was new to the team, and I specifically assigned _you _to help him out. Why didn't you do like I asked?"

Feeling crowded from Trieg's arm that remained resting on him, Kurt tried to scoot imperceptibly as to not be rude towards the end of the bench. "Well, Lance and I just really don't get along. We figured it'd be best if someone else took over, and Mark volunteered." True, he'd volunteered Mark but Mark accepted the duty. Trieg didn't need to know the minute details.

Kurt's feeble escape was thwarted as Trieg shifted with him followed up by a hand placed on his thigh. "I expected better from you. When I ask you to do something, I expect you to follow through. I'm your coach and you need to listen to me. Just think, if you decided this was okay now, not to listen to me, think about what could happen. You or someone could get seriously injured. Alvers is your responsibility, and if something happens to him, I'll hold you accountable. You understand, right?"

Seeing that he had reached the end of the bench and there was nowhere else to go, Kurt just resigned himself until Trieg was done. "_Ja_, I understand."

"So what are you going to do about it? I want a plan."

Kurt glanced back over to Mark and Lance and saw that Mark was glowering in his direction. He wasn't sure what it was he'd done to anger Mark now too, but sighed, figuring he'd worry about that after he got Trieg off his back. "I'll talk to Lance about it and get him to work with me."

"You need to apologize to him."

Kurt was about to protest but Trieg motioned for silence with his hand before returning it back to Kurt's thigh.

"You were the one that passed him off. You need to step up and own up to your mistake. Alright?"

"Ok," Kurt agreed but there was no way he was actually going to apologize to Lance.

"Now I want you to do everything that I told you. I don't expect to be disappointed again. You won't let me down, right?"

Kurt just nodded. He was already working out in his head how to appease Coach without having to make too much of an effort to help Lance.

"I want to hear a 'Yes, Coach.'"

"Yes, Coach," Kurt repeated dutifully.

Trieg smiled and gave a squeeze to Kurt's leg before standing. "I knew you'd come through." Relieved that that conversation was over with, Kurt watched Trieg head back to his office.

He refocused his gaze down at his leg where Coach Trieg's hand had rested, glad that he always wore long, form-fitting pants under his shorts and a similar long-sleeved top under his shirt. Even though gymnastics wasn't a contact sport, it was still inevitable that someone would touch his arm or leg at some point, and he didn't want anyone to know his true, furry form. But it seemed that rather than prevent his teammates from discovering his secret, it was utilized more in stopping Trieg. He wished that Trieg wasn't so touchy-feely but he guessed that was just the man's style.

Just as Kurt was about to get up, a looming shadow fell over him.

"What did Trieg want?"

Kurt sighed before running a hand through his hair and then looking up at Mark. Lance was standing just to Mark's right, but Kurt decided to ignore him. "Coach Trieg doesn't like it that you're the one helping Lance out instead of me."

"What does he care?"

"I dunno." Kurt shrugged. "Something about doing what he says or the world as we know it will end."

Mark ignored Kurt's flippant remark. He didn't think that whatever Coach Trieg said should be dismissed so easily. "Did he say what'd he do if you didn't?"

"Not really. But it doesn't matter. Trieg can just deal with it." Kurt looked over to where he could see Coach's silhouette outlined behind the frosted glass of his office. He was seated behind his desk but didn't seem to be working on any papers. Dismissing Trieg, Kurt looked back to Mark. "Besides, I think our arrangement is working out fine."

"No."

"No?" Lance was incredulous. Why would Mark say no? They both got along with each other, and furbrain could go fuck off.

"You two are acting like immature assholes. Your behavior is affecting the whole team."

Lance crossed his arms while Wagner regarded the other gymnasts carrying on their routines behind them. A few glanced over and then quickly away.

Wagner sighed and looked down with chagrin. "_Ja, _I know but Lance and I –"

"Lance and you are going to get over whatever it is you need to get over, starting off by us three working together every day, from now on."

Lance groaned, not believing Mark's inane suggestion.

"Shut it, Lance." Mark's tone brooked no argument. "The more time you two spend together, the better. Besides, you could use some better education on some other apparatuses, and Kurt here is the best one to teach you."

Lance sneered at Wagner but didn't say anything. It was hard to convince Mark of something once he made up his mind.

"I don't think this is a great idea. Lance and I -" Whatever else Wagner was going to say to dissuade Mark of his ludicrous idea was cut off.

"No. Now get up." Mark grabbed a hold of Wagner's arm and almost flung him off the bench.

"Ouch, Mark." Wagner stumbled a bit before turning around.

"Sorry. You're such a lightweight."

Wagner stuck his tongue out at Mark in response.

"Very mature."

Lance, though, noticed a slight smile grace Mark's face. Seeing Mark enjoy Wagner's playfulness, Lance felt like punching a wall. He didn't want Wagner to encroach on his burgeoning friendship with Mark. He just knew that somehow Wagner would ruin it all.

"Let's go to the vault. You haven't gotten any instruction on that and Wagner's pretty good at it."

"Thanks."

Lance clenched his fists at Wagner's proud smile. As they walked over, he trailed behind them, grumbling to himself and pulling faces behind Wagner's back while listening to their banter.

"Don't pretend to be humble. You know you're good." Mark gave Wagner a playful shove.

"_Ja, _I expect a parade and confetti next time I walk into the gym."

"Sure and I'll announce your presence." Mark swept his arm in a grandiose fashion. "Everyone watch as this German kid trips and stumbles his way to fame."

Wagner laughed in response. "Behold as I execute the perfect cartwheel." With that, he proceeded to perform one, and just before he completed the arch, Mark tackled him to the ground.

"Sadly, the German's dreams were interrupted by the perfect specimen of manliness." Flexing his arms, Mark straddled Wagner in a triumphant pose.

"Get off, you _Arschloch_," Wagner could barely get out between his laughs.

Jealously welled up in Lance. He barely resisted kicking them both but instead impatiently burst out, "Are we going to fucking go or what?"

His rude interruption cut off their laughter.

"Don't be such a prick, Lance," Mark said as he stood up off of Wagner and proceeded to help him up. Lance seethed but didn't say anything.

When they got to the vault, Wagner launched in to some explanation with some interjections made by Mark. Lance wasn't listening, though. He was still fuming that his time was being tainted by Wagner. Wagner was already creating a rift between him and Mark, and he wanted some type of revenge.

"Before he gives it a go, why don't you show him something cool? Show him what can be done," Mark suggested.

"_Ja, klingt gut_." Wagner walked a ways down the mat, creating a good amount of space between him and the vault.

"You'll want to watch this. It's very impressive."

Lance, though, didn't care. He wanted Wagner to suffer, and he knew the perfect way.

As Wagner ran down the run and just as he hit off the springboard and onto the vault, Lance released a tremor that reverberated across the mats.

Beside him, Mark made a surprised noise and was barely able to maintain his balance. The quake lasted all of a second, but it was enough to cause Wagner to botch his vault. Lance watched in satisfaction as Wagner incompleted his rotation and skidded with a harsh thud on his knees.

"Not so good now," Lance mumbled.

"Kurt!" Mark shouted as he rushed over to Wagner, barely skidding to a stop before crouching down beside him. "Hey, are you okay?" Lance followed at slower pace, unsuccessfully suppressing a smirk.

"Yeah," Wagner nodded before slowly stretching out his legs to examine any damage. His pants were slightly torn, and blood was sluggishly seeping from the abrasions.

"We should get those cleaned out," Mark suggested as he offered a hand to help Wagner up. "Crazy, though, right? An earthquake here? Are we even near any fault lines?"

"_Ja, _strange," Wagner said with a gelid glare towards Lance. Lance returned the look with a challenging one of his own. It's not like Wagner could blame him in front of Mark for causing the earthquake without looking crazy.

A painful yell from across the gym broke their staring contest.

"Stop trying to move it!"

With exchanged looks, the three hurried over to the high bar where the rest of the team had gathered in a small circle around Miguel and Reese. As Lance got closer, he could only see the top of Miguel's fauxhawk as he hunched over, clutching his wrist close to his chest.

"Sorry. I just wanted to see how bad it was," Reese apologized. He sat back on his haunches, unsure of what to do next.

"I know. It just hurts," Miguel's voice was strained and as he sat back to address Reese, Lance could see that same pain mirrored across his face.

As Lance stared down at Miguel, a deep feeling swelled within his chest. Miguel was in a few of his classes and had always seemed like a pretty cool guy. They'd done some group work together, and he had always made sure to include Lance in the conversation. Since joining the team, Miguel had offered some pointers on the pommel horse and been overall pretty kind to him.

"Well the nurse isn't on campus anymore. Maybe you oughta go to the hospital?" Jose suggested as he knelt down next to Miguel and Reese.

"I dunno if he's hurt bad enough for a hospital," Reese said.

"Hey, Kurt, you're bleeding." Jose pointed out the blood on Wagner's knee that now had created a small stream of lines flowing down his pant leg.

"Yeah, it's just a small wound." Kurt dismissed Jose's concern and refocused attention back to Miguel. "What do you think, Miguel? Do you want to go to the hospital?"

Whatever Miguel was going to say was interrupted by Trey running up to the group with a concerned Coach Trieg.

"Move aside. Let me see." Trieg knelt down beside Miguel and slowly coaxed him into letting him inspect his wrist. Miguel moaned in pain as Coach Trieg gently rotated his wrist. "Hmm. Maybe a sprain. Could be a fracture. You need to get this examined. Reese, help him to my office and we can call your parents."

There were some reassuring pats on Miguel's back as he was led away by Reese and shortly after the circle broke up. Lance heard a few comments on the bizarre short earthquake that precipitated Miguel's fall, but of course no one could connect it to him.

"Hey, let's go get you cleaned up," Mark addressed Wagner. "Go sit on that bench while I find some alcohol and bandages." Mark ran off to Trieg's office where the first aid kit was kept, leaving Lance and Wagner alone.

Wagner looked over to Lance, his visage darkened with fury. Lance took a step back, never having seen him so threatening and pissed off before.

"Lance, _Fick dich ins Knie, du Arschloch_." With that Wagner walked away.

**Notes:**

*****_ klingt gut –_ Sounds good

* Fick dich ins Knie, du Arschloch - Go fuck yourself, Asshole

If any of the German is wrong or sounds strange, just give me a PM with the accurate words and I'll fix it up. Thanks.


	3. Wobbly Recovery

**Warning: There's a bit of creepy touch and grooming (the grooming associated with sexual predators) in this chapter.  
**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Wobbly Recovery**

Lance lay flat on his back, staring idly up at the grey, peeling ceiling. His cluttered bedroom with its pile of laundry strewn on the floor and the muffled sound of the TV coming from the living room faded into the background as he kept running through last week's mishap in his head.

He couldn't seem to erase Miguel's pained expression, his mouth torn into a grimace as he clutched his wrist. Even Wagner's raggedly torn knees would accompany Miguel's wretched form. For some reason, Wagner's parting insult - that Lance couldn't exactly translate but could take his best guess - lingered in his mind. It's not like he hadn't been insulted and cussed at before, but from Wagner, it was just so strange. After having spent the past week stewing about it, Lance could finally admit to himself it was all because he felt guilty.

Miguel had a fractured wrist because of him and was out for the rest of the year. Even though Miguel could no longer do any of the apparatuses, he still came to practice. Having to see him and hear everyone's sympathy to Miguel just weighed upon Lance. It was like trying to climb out of a pool in his clothes.

As for Wagner, if Lance thought he was cold to him before, he was downright icy now. He'd still hang around him and Mark like Mark requested, but he was so terse with Lance, only explaining an apparatus without even looking his way. It made Lance's guilt over his impulsive reaction compound even more. He was actually kind of hurt when Wagner would goof with Mark who Lance realized actually liked Wagner's stupid jokes. He just tried to hide it under a stalwart veneer. It pissed Lance off and he didn't know why. He had originally thought it was because he thought Mark would abandon him, but obviously that wasn't the type of guy Mark w as.

"Yo, Lance, come out here and watch this shit. It's fucking hilarious!" Toad's voice came right outside the door.

"Fuck off," Lance yelled, throwing a pillow. The pillow made a soft plop against the wall beside door before joining a growing pile of dirty shirts and jeans.

"Whatever, jerkoff."

Lance rolled away from the door, the bed squeaking in protest at his shifting weight. He didn't want to be bothered now, especially not by his annoying ass teammates.

Lance took his other pillow and bunched it up under his arms. He needed something to get this weight off of his conscience, and he couldn't figure out what that something was. He just knew it was all Wagner's fault. He just wanted their relationship to go back to the way it was, a mutual dislike. Not this cold treatment that made Lance curl up on his bed in doubt.

Fucking Christ, here he was trying to be a good, upright citizen and he couldn't even do that right. As these thoughts and images niggled his brain, Lance stared at the wall. It would be several hours still before he could drift off to sleep.

"Alright, spill." Mark said as he jumped down from the rings.

"What?"

"I was showing you how to do a handstand on the rings, and you just kept staring off into space. All practice, you've been distracted. It's you and Kurt."

"What? No, I-"

"Shut up." Sometimes Lance appreciated Mark's brusqueness. This was not one of those times. "Kurt's been pretty cold to you and that's not like him. I asked him why and he just said you'd pissed him off, but he wouldn't tell me why. Obviously, you're upset about this. You've been like this the past two weeks."

Lance started to deny Mark's accurate observations, but then figured maybe he should come clean. Or as clean as he could to Mark. Maybe Mark could help him get over these stupid feelings. Sighing resignedly, Lance picked up a towel and threw it towards Mark. "I did something pretty shitty and Wagner's the only one who knows what I did."

"Tell me." Mark caught the towel and began wiping his forehead. Once finished, he threw it back down beside the rings and began stretching out his arms.

"No."

Mark didn't seem to be affronted by Lance's frank response. Instead, he just continued to stretch, patiently waiting for Lance to continue.

"He probably has every right to be pissy at me. I fucked up."

"Apologize to him."

"W-What? No way."

"You said you fucked up, right? Do you want to fix your relationship?"

"Wagner and I don't have a 'relationship' of any sort. We hate each other."

"No, before you guys just didn't like each other. Were rivals or some stupid shit like that. Pretty idiotic if you ask me."

Lance sighed. It was hard to be made at Mark when he was just so forthright in his opinion. He wasn't sure if he agreed with Mark that he and Wagner 'just didn't like each other,' but he was right that their relationship had deteriorated. Lance wanted Mark's respect and he didn't know what he wanted from Wagner. It was confusing. He'd promise himself over the summer to turn himself around. Maybe this was just all part of that really painful – Lance glanced over at Wagner – really really _really _onerous process.

"Start off easy. Go over and ask him to help you out on this." Mark gestured to the large, intimidating expanse of floor that had been taped off into a giant performing area.

"I'm not apologizing to him."

"I didn't say to do that yet. Just ask him for help."

Lance stared at Mark, trying to outwait him and hoping Mark would just give in. But Mark wasn't a pushover. He resolutely stared back.

"Fine!" Lance threw his hands in the air. "I'll go ask Wagner."

Lance missed Mark's triumphant smile as he stormed off.

Kurt leaned down over his legs that were spread out in a V-position and touched both of his feet.

"Man, I can't believe Ms. Oswel wouldn't give me a pass on my geometry test." Miguel imitated Kurt, carefully making sure his right-hand embraced in a cast didn't jar against his foot as he stretched. "I mean hello, hand broken here."

"I think if we came in, threw up all over her desk and the tests, and then someone opened the window to get rid of the smell of the vomit and all the puke-covered tests blew out, she'd still find a way for us to take a test."

"That is oddly specific. You think about this often?"

Kurt grinned. "Maybe." He switched to leaning down completely in between his legs, keeping aware of whatever moves he did, that Miguel wouldn't have to rely on his hand to execute them.

Not being able to bend as far as Kurt, Miguel tried his best while still keeping up with the conversation. "You'd think something like an earthquake would change her mind. Even if it was just a small tremor. The Not So Big Quake – Not Even Letting Me Miss My Geometry Test."

Kurt laughed and sat up. "The Quake of Small Proportions – Survived by the Skin of My Knees."

"The Tiny Tremor – Felt By Few, Injured Two."

"That's pretty good. The Brief Shudder – Shaken, Not Stirred."

The two joked back and forth until Kurt spied Lance approaching them. His laughter trailed off as he wondered why Lance would even deign to be in his presence. True, he had been helping him out, but mostly in deference to Mark and to keep Coach Trieg off his back. It was one thing to use their powers against each other in battle or even when having a row at school. But it was different this time. They were on the same team, and Kurt was only trying to help him. And having his powers hurt a teammate - that was beyond the pale.

"Hey."

"Hey," Miguel returned the greeting.

Kurt continued to stretch in silence, guessing that Lance just wanted to check up on Miguel. Lance had been going out of his way to help Miguel, so at least it seemed that Lance regretted hurting him.

"How's the hand?" Lance asked.

"It's ok. Not hurting or anything. Just glad that Kurt's here to keep me company. I can't do much but stretch and lift weights with my left hand. I'll just do all the apparatuses one-handed. That should impress the judges."

"Actually, I came over to see if I could borrow Wagner." Lance made a face that looked like he had sucked on too many Warheads before continuing. "I need his help on the floor."

Kurt stopped stretching, surprised at Lance's request. Lance wasn't looking at him, as if embarrassed at lowering himself in asking for his help.

It's not like Kurt was in a position to refuse in front of Miguel. Besides, he was still keeping his promise to Mark. He just couldn't believe that Lance was the one coming over to sort of ask him for assistance.

"Um, ok. I'll catch you later then, Miguel."

"Yeah, come back anytime. I'll be here." Miguel laughed and waved them off.

They walked over to the floor area where Mark was standing, his blonde hair ruffled a bit by the A/C which blew particularly strong over this section of the gym.

Kurt snuck a few glances at Lance who seemed to be trying to do his best to face forward and pretend that he hadn't just asked Kurt for help. Shrugging off Lance's strange attitude, Kurt smiled and greeted Mark even though he knew he probably wouldn't get a response back.

"Hey."

"I suck at this. You should teach Lance."

No greeting back, but Kurt was used to it from Mark. It was kind of Mark's shtick and was slightly endearing.

So for the next half hour, Kurt helped Lance out on the floor. He mostly had him working on basic skills and drills that would be the essential foundation for a strong floor routine.

"Show me your handstand." Kurt dropped all niceties around Lance, just dishing out orders and criticism. He didn't really feel like Lance deserved to be treated as anything more than an unpleasant chore.

Lance rolled his eyes but went into a handstand.

"It needs to be straighter. You should be able to see your toes."

Lance straightened up, wobbling a bit as he reset his hands.

"Stretch more."

"I am," Lance growled out.

Kurt thought Lance's handstand now looked pretty good but passed on offering a compliment. "Now see how long you can hold that."

"How about we have a contest?" Mark walked up next to Kurt, admiring Lance's handstand. "Let's see who can hold their handstand the longest."

"What? Hey, that's kinda unfair here," Lance protested as he did his best not to teeter over.

"Sounds good." Kurt wouldn't mind showing Lance up.

"Let me go first and you correct my handstand." Mark assumed the upside-down position, letting Kurt give pointers to fix it. Kurt admired his handiwork at the two mostly perfect handstands in front of him.

"Come on, Wagner. You're just cheating."

Kurt ignored Lance but joined them in their game. He was sure they made some weird sight, all three of them upside down in a circle. "I bet everyone thinks we've all lost our minds. We probably look like we're performing some bizarre ritual."

"Ha, yeah." Mark agreed. "Like we're about to summon the demon of gymnastics."

Kurt had to suppress a smile at that. Wouldn't Mark be surprised to know that a demon-lookalike was doing a handstand right next to him.

After a bit, Mark started weaving before crashing down onto the mat. "I'm out. All the blood has gone to my head."

Kurt looked at Lance, who looked probably just as silly as him with his hair trailing over the mat.

"I'm not about to give in to you, Wagner." Lance, though, was wobbling more and more and his arms were shaking with exhaustion.

Kurt knew he had it in the bag. That is until his inducer let out a pathetic beep. He looked over to his wrist and saw that the battery level was running dangerously low. Kurt frowned, frustrated because he had just charged this one this morning. It probably needed to have its battery completely replaced. Luckily, he kept an extra one in his locker for emergencies like these.

He looked over at Lance, who was looking at him oddly. Well, he didn't have a choice but to let him win. Rolling down from his handstand, he said, "Lance wins. I'll be back in a bit." Not waiting for Mark's response, he ran off to his locker.

After Wagner left, Lance collapsed onto the ground. If Wagner's watch hadn't beeped, he'd probably be sprawled out under a triumphant furball. It was funny. He hadn't seen Wagner in so long without his false image, he'd almost forgotten.

"That was weird," Mark commented, looking after where Wagner ran off.

"Yeah, probably had to piss or something." For whatever reason, him and the rest of the Brotherhood had never taken striders to reveal Wagner, and he wasn't going to start now.

Mark shrugged and hauled Lance up to his feet then slapped him on the back.

"See, that wasn't too hard."

"I felt like I was going to collapse any second."

"Not the handstand. Getting Kurt to help you."

"What was the point? It's not like he acted any different." Lance shook his head, trying to get the blood flowing in the right direction.

"You went over to him. Showed him you valued his opinion."

Rolling his shoulders, Lance sighed in disbelief. "How the hell do you come up with all this shit?"

"My parents are psychologists. I talk to them about you and Kurt," Mark said matter of factly as if this was normal.

Lance wanted to burrow under the mats. How embarrassing to have his friend talk to his psychologist parents about his problems. But why look a gift horse in the mouth when he could possibly get some insight into his feelings that he himself was having trouble understanding.

"Then tell me, why do your parents think I should go through all this trouble to make up with someone I don't even like?"

"That's for you to figure out," Mark said enigmatically.

"Seriously." Of all the times for Mark to get cryptic. Lance shook his head and laughed. "Of course that's what you'd say."

"Next step, apology."

"Ok. Not funny anymore. Why the fuck should I apologize?"

Mark headed over to where their water bottles lay and tossed Lance his. He took a long drink before answering Lance. "You did something wrong, right?"

"To someone I fucking hate."Lance squeezed his bottle tightly, causing a bit of water to seep over the top.

"Fine." Mark seemed angry at Lance's declaration. "You hate Wagner. Why?"

Lance stuttered a second. He had never really had to put his feelings into words. "We have different opinions."

"I guarantee we don't agree on everything."

"This isn't like over what's the best movie or some stupid shit. It's big."

Mark sat walked over to a bench and sat down. He gestured for Lance to do the same, but Lance was too riled up to sit.

"Basically he thinks everyone should be all equal and play nice, and I think some people are just better than others. And some people are just assholes that need punching."

"Fuck, I don't even agree with you on that. Except the part about assholes. They always need a good dickpunch. Are you gonna hate me now too?"

Lance grew frustrated. He couldn't fully explain how Wagner and he were on different opposing sides on the mutant issue. To most of the populace, mutants didn't even exist. "No but it's Wagner. You don't understand."

"Ok, fine. Then what else about him." Mark put the bottle down a bit harshly, aggravated at seemingly getting nowhere in their conversation.

"We fight. Outside of school."  
Mark looked incredulous at him. "You guys go and pick fights with each other on the weekends?"

"No, not exactly." Lance sat down next to Mark, growing tired of trying to explain without really explaining out all. "I mean we haven't fought in awhile. Man, in almost," Lance thought back in his head. Wasn't it last May the Brotherhood and the X-men had some altercation? "I guess at least six months ago."

"And you two would set up a time and fight each other. That's so …" Mark couldn't even imagine Wagner doing that. It seemed so out of character.

"Well no, not exactly. It's hard to explain, ok. I wasn't exactly going to fight Wagner. It was more of a clashing of ideas thing again."

"So you fought but it wasn't exactly against him and you haven't for awhile."

"Um, yeah. I guess."

" So what's the big deal?"

Lance stared at Mark, stumped to answer his question. It'd had just always been like this. All the Brotherhood hated all the X-men and vice versa. What else was there to say? Did he hate Wagner or did he just hate him on principal that he was an X-man? Lance stared off into space, trying to think of any other reasons he could claim for hating Wagner. None really came to mind.

"Fine, I don't hate Wagner. I just dislike him. A lot."

"Progress!" Mark slapped Lance on the back again. "Now go apologize."

Lance growled in frustration, already imagining how that conversation was going to go. "Fine. I'll do it, but I want to be alone. Don't need you hovering while I make an ass of myself."

"I've seen that plenty of times already."

Lance had finished changing into his street clothes, but didn't leave just yet. He was resolute in his actions even though it was going to be a pain in the ass. For the rest of practice, Lance couldn't keep his eyes off the clock. He had hoped Wagner had needed to go home, but it seemed he'd found a charged inducer. Now he was stuck, waiting around to implement Mark's stupid plan.

Seeing that Wagner was also almost ready to go, he headed over to him, hoping to have a private conversation after everyone left the locker room.

"Hey, Wagner. Can you stay a second? I want to talk with you."

Wagner closed his locker and studied Lance's features. Whatever it was that he saw, he set his stuff down and said, "Fine." He sat down on the bench and crossed his arms.

Lance didn't want to stand around like an idiot, so he stepped over the bench and sat across from Wagner. It was oddly reminiscent of his first day on the team.

They sat in silence, trying not to look at each other. Only the hurried packing of their other teammates served as background noise. It didn't take long for the room to clear thanks to the widespread knowledge of their increasing volatile relationship.

Once they were alone, the silence lingered for a bit more. Lance had no idea how to start.

"Well?"

Lance sighed. He readied himself to take the plunge. "Look Wagner." He paused and thought about what other advice Mark had given him. He'd suggested addressing Wagner by his first name to try and bridge some mental barrier Lance had erected or whatever psychologist mumbo jumbo Mark parroted from his parents. If he was really going to do this, he might as well go all in. "Ok, Kurt."

Wagner didn't respond to that except with a raised eyebrow.

"Right. Fuck this is hard."

Luckily Wagner, no Kurt now Lance mentally corrected himself, was willing to be patient and waited for Lance to collect his thoughts.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what I did a few weeks ago. It was stupid, and I was just really angry, and –"

"Someone got hurt, Lance. It wasn't just some stupid thing, but really dangerous and cruel."

"I know!" Lance stood up and threw his hands in the air. "I know. Fucking Christ. I fucked up. There I said it. You happy? But I'm trying to make up for it now."

"How?"

"I'm apologizing, aren't I?"

"So? Anyone can say sorry. How do I know you won't do it again?"

"Because I won't!" Why couldn't Wagner- Kurt-whatever, just let it go? Did he have to make this so fucking difficult? "What the hell do you want? A box of chocolates and an apology letter?"

Now Kurt was on his feet, gesticulating with an angry sweep of his hand. "How about some actual contrition."

"I am contrite. I'm so contrite I'm apologizing to _you_! And Jesus Christ, contrition? Is that like your word of the day?"

"Hey, hey! What's going on in here?" Trieg stormed in, an exasperated expression on his face until his eyes lit upon Kurt. He seemed to soften his glare and came to stand beside him. Lance was disgusted. "Ok, tell me what's going on here."

"Nothing, Coach. Just a small tiff," Kurt replied as calmly as he could, but Lance spotted his tail flash briefly into existence before it angrily lashed back under the effect of the inducer.

Lance tried to pass a warning off to Kurt with a telltale stare at him and then towards where he saw his tail.

He didn't know if Kurt received his message, but Kurt seemed to adjust his stance, and Lance didn't see his tail again.

Unaware of their silent communication, Trieg reproached, "Didn't sound small to me."

Lance crossed his arms defensively, ready to be ratted out by Kurt as some instigator.

Kurt just shrugged in response to Trieg. "It was nothing. Just over something stupid."

Trieg was obviously not convinced but let it slide. Probably in deference to his favorite student, Lance snidely thought.

"So you two really don't get along, huh. I don't want this infighting on my team, now do I. Alright then. Kurt, you don't need to help out Alvers anymore. Mark can take over those duties. Unless it would be better just to have Alvers off the team?"

Kurt seemed a bit taken aback at the question posed towards him from Trieg. Lance couldn't believe his fate was being left to him. He was so going to kick his ass if he…

"No, no. Lance should stay." Kurt snuck a glance towards him before looking back at Coach. "He's a good asset for the team."

"You're right, he is. But are you two going to be able to at least be civil towards each other?"

"_Ja._"

Lance curtly nodded.

"Alright. I'll leave it in your hands. I better not hear of any more fighting." Trieg bent down and picked up Kurt's bag.

"Come on, I'll take you home, Kurt."

Lance stared after them, baffled at Kurt's unexpected magnanimity.

During the car ride, Trieg expressed his regret at making Kurt be Lance's mentor. Kurt let him prattle on, his thoughts mostly drifting back to Lance apologizing. Coming from Lance, that was a big thing. And even though it could've gone better, just the fact that Lance took steps to apologize blew his mind. He shouldn't have been so dismissive, but he was still pretty pissed with Lance. Still, Lance had extended the olive branch, though it might've been slightly on fire and smoking, Kurt could at least meet him halfway. Maybe next Monday when they had practice again he could show Lance that he'd be willing to put aside their differences.

The car slowing down to a stop right outside the mansion drew Kurt out of his thoughts.

"I hope you'll think about what I said."

Kurt nodded, not having any idea what Coach was talking about.

"Thanks for the ride," Kurt said as he twisted around to reach back for his bag.

"Hey." Trieg put his hand on Kurt's side as he was mid-stretch towards the back. Kurt's heart began to race; but otherwise, he didn't know how to react to that, so he just continued to fish for his bagpack. Trieg didn't continue whatever it was he was going to say, which made it even more awkward as Kurt rummaged around.

Once having found his bag, he turned back around and looked over to Trieg. He wanted more than anything to bolt out of the car, but didn't think that would be appropriate. Trieg was his coach and did seem to genuinely like him. It was just weird, sitting in his car outside the mansion. Since it was already late fall, the sun had already set. The moon was bright and as it shone through the branches, it cast strange shadows onto Trieg's face. Trieg stared at him, one blue eye lit in moonlight while the other was hidden in shadow. Kurt began to fidget with the handles of his bagpack.

Trieg finally moved his hand only to place it on the side of Kurt's head, through his hair. Kurt nervously twitched, hoping that Trieg didn't notice his fur-covered, pointed ear, but Trieg didn't say a thing about.  
"I should've listened to you, Kurt. I'm sorry for making you and Lance work alongside each other. But I'm proud of you, letting Alvers stay on the team was a tough decision but I think for the best. "

Kurt imperceptibly nodded and glanced towards the passenger door. It was still locked.

"If you ever need a ride again. I'm always willing."

Kurt didn't bring up how he actually didn't need a ride, that it was Trieg who suggested it. He usually wound up porting several times until he got back to the mansion, but he couldn't use that excuse on Trieg. Too caged to think of an excuse, Kurt could only respond, "Thanks for the offer."

Finally, after an eternity, Trieg sat back and unlocked the car door.

Kurt hurriedly gathered his bag and got out of the car.

"See you tomorrow in gym class!" Trieg shouted as he closed the door. The car didn't drive off, but sat there before the gate. Kurt had to manually enter the code instead of his usual porting straight to his room. He wasn't able to breathe a sigh of relief until almost the entrance of the mansion when he heard Trieg drive off.

Lance really didn't expect to have Wagn-Kurt come up to him and suggest practicing together. He thought for sure after their blowup in the locker room, that Kurt would go back to avoiding him or being cold. For whatever reason, it seemed that Kurt was going to give him a chance.

They stood on the floor routine mats, while Mark was back on the rings, practicing on his own. This time, though, Kurt did more than just order and criticize. He was doling out helpful tips and praise.

"No, that looks strange. Let me show you what I mean." Stepping back a bit, Kurt executed an aerial.

"I don't see what I'm doing different."

"I dunno. Yours looks just strange." Kurt shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe if you saw a video of yourself…."

Lance wasn't thinking about doing his aerial correctly anymore. So far, practice had actually been nice without the constant icy glares and clipped remarks. It seemed that Mark was right, and he didn't actually hate Kurt. He was no longer the worst thing to be around, but he was still towards the bottom of his list. Still, when Lance looked over to Mark, he couldn't help but feel like he would be disappointed in his lame apology. He'd probably want Lance to redo it, to really make amends.

"Hey, are you listening?"

"Look, I am really sorry. I didn't want Miguel to get hurt. I was just really pissed off and decided to, I dunno, fuck with you," Lance said in a rush, figuring his apology –his _real_ apology - could be like a Band-Aid, ripped off and done in one go.

"Ok," Kurt drew out the okay, wondering where this train of thought had come from. "But I don't understand why you were angry. I was helping you. And we haven't fought in _months._"

Lance shrugged. He didn't want to admit that he was jealous of him and Mark's camaraderie. "Old habits?"

Kurt didn't believe him but let it slide. It's not like he expected Lance to reveal his true feelings now that they were on speaking terms.

"I _am_ sorry for what happened to Miguel. I didn't want him to get hurt."  
Kurt took that to mean it would've been all okay if he had been the one more gravely injured. But what did he expect. They weren't friends, and Lance probably still hated him. At least he knew that Lance wasn't a total jerk to everyone. Mostly just to him. "So are you looking for me to tell you that you're forgiven?"

"I guess."

Kurt looked over to Miguel who was picking up a weight to do some lifts. He sighed. Lance at least seemed apologetic for his actions inadvertently hurting Miguel. "Look, Miguel is really nice. I'm sure even if he knew it was you, he'd probably forgive you knowing it was an accident."

Lance looked relieved.

Kurt turned away, figuring that's all that Lance wanted from him. "Did you need any more help on-"

Kurt was surprised when Lance pulled him back around.

A tight expression painted across his face, Lance looked like he had stepped on a Lego. "And I'm sorry. To you. I was stupid and rash." Lance looked around furtively as if afraid someone would overhear him. "I don't hate you or anything and I don't want to injure you. Except you know, if you're going against the Brotherhood. Then that's okay."

A bit taken aback by Lance's blunt apology, Kurt stared at Lance dumbfounded. "I, um, don't hate you either?" Kurt really didn't know what to say. He thought about how Lance had tried to warn him about his tail in the locker room even though they were in the middle of a big fight. Maybe Lance wasn't so terrible. "And I guess I forgive you too."

"Good." Lance rethought that. "That is, thanks. I'm not asking to be friends or anything like that." Lance and Kurt both scoffed at that idea. "Just to, I dunno, treat me like a teammate. I want to be part of this team."

"So if I'm nice to you, you're nice to me and vice versa?"

"Yeah, that's the idea."

"I can live with that."

They stood there awkwardly a few seconds before Kurt gestured back to the floor. "So do you still need help?"

"Yeah, show me your aerial again."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

*So all that handstand stuff I got from "drills and skills . com."

*So now Lance will be calling and thinking of Kurt as Kurt instead of Wagner, which will make my life that much easier.

Thanks for reading, and please take the time to review.


	4. Aggressive Maneuvers

**Warning:** Same warnings still apply. More inappropriate advances. And one crude joke that I couldn't resist.

**Chapter 4: Aggressive Maneuvers **

Lance was feeling good. He was improving as a gymnast, finally getting down most of the basics and moving on to practicing some real skills. Moreover, the tension of the past month had finally dissipated with things settling down on the team since he and Kurt had sort of made up. They weren't friends. It was just too weird to think of friend and Kurt in the same sentence. Still, they were civil to each other, and with Mark acting as a buffer, it sometimes just felt natural to hang out together. Lance didn't know what to think of Kurt anymore. Watching him and Mark goof around actually made Lance want to join in on the fun. But when it was just the two of them without Mark, it became awkward – full of silence or conversations that quickly petered out. Lance didn't know about Kurt, but he was wary of saying anything that would break their fragile truce.

Currently, Lance was waiting at the floor apparatus for Mark to go retrieve Kurt from the parallel bars where he was just finishing up practicing a routine. For whatever reason, the floor was his and Mark's biggest struggle; but fortunately, it was probably Kurt's best apparatus.

After almost an hour of pointers and demonstrations from Kurt and more than a few imperfect tumbling passes, Lance was about ready to just quit.

"Argh, fuck this stupid thing." He kicked at the mat, resulting in a now stubbed toe, before collapsing onto his back with a thud.

"Hey, it's not that bad." Kurt leaned over him, looking in amusement at his antics.

"No, Lance is right. It's bad." Mark joined Lance on the mat, a resounding thump accompanying his fall.

Kurt sat down beside them cross-legged. "You guys are just weak," His light tone belied his words as he leaned his elbow on his knee.

"I will get up and punch you," Mark said but remained unmoving in his sprawled position.

"Why don't we talk about something else for a bit? Get your mind off your big, flat, squishy, blue nemesis."

"I thought we were talking about the floor, not y–" Lance stopped himself just before he said you. That would've been a weird slip of the tongue to explain to Mark.

"Not what?" Mark inquired, leaning up on his elbows to look over at Lance.

Lance saw Kurt's expression change from disconcerted to confused. He saw him mouth the word 'squishy?' to which Lance just shrugged. It was going to be a stupid quip anyway.

"Not what?" Mark repeated.

"Nothing." Lance scrambled in his mind to think of a different topic to distract Mark. "But hey, you see the new horror movie out? _Jackhammer 3: The Crumbling_?"

Luckily, Mark seemed to let it go and lay back down on the floor. "No. I don't like horror."

"What? Really? But it's so great."

"_Ja, _it was awesome. You should totally go see it." Kurt leaned forward, eager to recount the horrors that was _Jackhammer_. "There's this part with an eyeball. This dude's face is all-" Seeing Mark's discomfort, he cut himself off from giving a blow-by-blow. "It's so bloody and gross."

Mark gave another squeamish look, which Lance ignored. "Ha yeah, that was great. And this girl. Man, she totally gets jackhammered to death straight up in her –"

"Stop. Stop." Mark sat up completely, waving off any more graphic descriptions of death by jackhammer.

"Sorry. It's pretty graphic so you probably wouldn't like it," Kurt said.

"Ugh, no. Gore just makes me feel sick." Mark stood up and turned around to regard the other two still reclined out. "Can't we just get back to what we're supposed to be working on?" He gestured towards the floor area.

"Sure. Sure." Lance stretched on the floor before standing up alongside Mark. "So what's next?"

"How about we do just a simple tumbling pass?" Kurt stood and walked over to the corner of the mat to demonstrate what it should look like. "It's just a dive roll, front walkover, cartwheel, cartwheel, back walkover, and ends with a back extension roll. I'll do it slowly, ok?"*

When Kurt executed it, it looked simple and easy. But when Lance tried to imitate Kurt, he wound up flat on his back on the floor.

Mark and Kurt peered at him from above.

"You okay?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, this is all part of my routine. A tribute to _Jackhammer: The Crumbling._" Lance began writhing on the floor, imitating as if he had a jackhammer driving at his stomach.

Kurt couldn't help but laugh out loud at Lance's inane movements. Lance began making even bigger, dramatic movements along with painful noises. Soon, Mark was joining in with Kurt.

"I can hear the judges now. 'A perfect ten! Never have we seen such a riveting performance,'" Kurt joked, waving his hand out like he was an announcing the newest act on stage.

Lance suddenly stopped when he saw Trieg come up behind Kurt and place his hand on his shoulder.

"I need to talk with you," Trieg said authoritatively, not even looking over at Lance or Mark.

"Um, ok."

"In my office. _Now._" Trieg's voice brooked no argument. He walked off, assured that Kurt would follow him.

"Do you know what he wants?" Mark asked. "He didn't sound too pleased."

Kurt just shook his head. "I dunno. I'll be back in a bit."

Lance watched Kurt run off before looking questioningly at Mark, who just shrugged.

Trieg's office was slightly dim, the blinds having been drawn to and the overhead light flickered in need of a replacement. Kurt slightly jumped at the sound of the door clicking close, on edge with thoughts of the time in the car racing through his mind.

"Take a seat." Trieg practically pushed Kurt into one of the chairs that faced Trieg's desk. The chair, hard and covered in a grey plastic, was uncomfortable as he fell into it. Trieg didn't sit behind his desk, but instead stood right in front of Kurt. He leaned his back against the front of his desk with his knees lightly brushing Kurt's. The desk slightly groaned under Trieg's weight.

Trieg didn't say anything at first, but just stared at him a bit, causing Kurt to squirm in his chair.

No longer standing the silence, Kurt began but Trieg cut him off. "Is there anything-"

"Are you doing this just to spite me?"

"W-What?"

"You and Alvers. I see you two have become close suddenly. So are you doing this just to spite me?"

Kurt was so confused. Not sure why Coach Trieg would even think that. "No, of course no-"

"Because I really don't appreciate that. I thought I'd do good by you and let you off the hook on helping Alvers. And then you just threw it back in my face."

"It really wasn't anything like-" Kurt tried denying but Trieg wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise.

"I like to think I look out for you. Can be someone you can rely on. But you have to be willing to listen to me." Trieg leaned forward and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "But you haven't been recently."

Trieg was so close now, Kurt could practically smell what he ate for lunch. "I really didn't mean to. Lance and I just sort of made up."

Trieg shook his head. "Actions speak louder than words. You say you didn't mean to but your actions speak differently. I listened to you, realized my mistake, and even apologized and let you out of our responsibility. And what did you do? Just went right ahead and did everything you could to oppose me. And in that, did you ever think of my feelings? Of how I must feel for you to go against everything I said?"

Kurt just shook his head, a slight surge of guilt rising up.

"Even after I told you how important it was to listen to me. Remember that talk? Remember how I showed you. Mentored you to make the right choices. Well, you won't if you refuse to listen."

Kurt just sat there, not knowing what to say.

Trieg sighed and shifted to kneel down in front of him. "You're a good guy, but sometimes you're just so inconsiderate. That's why you have to listen to me."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said dejectedly. He looked down, not wanting to see Trieg's disappointment.

"Remember, I even let you decide whether Alvers remained on the team. That was a big decision I entrusted you with. In order for me to feel like I can do that again, you have to trust me in return."

Trieg shifted back a bit on his knees, giving Kurt hope that he'd back up a bit and give him a bit of space; but instead, Trieg resettled himself a touch closer and moved one of his hands from Kurt's shoulder to rest high up on his inner thigh. Whatever else Trieg said, Kurt tuned out, feeling highly uncomfortable with the intimate touch. He didn't know what to do. Was Trieg aware of his hand? Was he doing this on purpose? His athletic pants were thin and tight, and through them, he could feel the heat emanating from each of Trieg's fingers. He felt the hand begin to trail higher, making him jerk back almost hard enough to knock over the chair.

"Um, Coach, do you think you could?" He glanced down at the hand then back up, hoping to convey his nervousness without insulting Trieg.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't realize."

Trieg took his hand away slowly, letting it trail down Kurt's leg before removing it completely. He was so nonchalant about it, like it was just a common mistake, that Kurt began to question whether he was the one reading too much into things.

Trieg stood up completely and again leaned back against his desk. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief at having that extra space between them.

"The big Tournament is coming up and I need you at your best. You need to concentrate on yourself and not just on helping out Alvers. You understand?"

Kurt nodded. "_Ja._"

"That means I don't want to see you around him for awhile."

Kurt reluctantly agreed. He hadn't mind hanging around Lance, but Trieg was right. He should start focusing more on his routines.

"I also want you to trust me. I trust you and I'd be hurt if the feeling wasn't mutual."

Trieg looked so earnest that Kurt couldn't help but respond, "I trust you."

Trieg gave a smile. "I'm glad. Now just prove it. I'm going to be watching. Don't disappoint me again." He moved over to the door to let Kurt rejoin practice.

"I won't."

Kurt left the office and headed towards the locker room. He waved to Mark and Lance and tried to smile to show that everything was fine, but in actuality he was torn on the inside. He needed a place to try and get his frayed emotions under control. When he reached the locker room, only strewn bagpacks carelessly left on the floor and lockers hanging open with clothes peeking out greeted him. Ignoring the chaotic mess, he headed towards the back area, past his own woeful locker, to the end of the row. He slowly leaned back against the end - the slight hollow, metal clunk disturbing the air a brief second only to resign to the silence. Sinking down to the ground, he was relatively hidden from view of anyone that walked in.

Resting his arms on his knees, he shakily ran a hand through his hair. His thigh still tingled as if he could still feel the ghost of Trieg's touch. He wasn't sure if Trieg had meant to place his hand there or not; but either way, it made him very uncomfortable. He didn't know what to do. Trieg had apologized but then there was the car ride. That wasn't normal, right? He sat in silence for a few minutes, just trying to make sense of it all.

Maybe he was reading too much into things. He wasn't used to people reaching out and touching him. It was probably just all in his head. It's not like Trieg had tried anything. It could all be explained as mistakes or just Trieg's natural affinity for demonstrative affection. He was just being an idiot.

Thinking back on their conversation, Trieg was probably right. That was twice Kurt had ignored Trieg's wishes and it probably hurt the coach. Trieg had always looked out for him, giving him pointers, praise, or leeway. He really was being inconsiderate by taking all the things that Trieg had done for him and throwing them back in his face.

He was just blowing things out of proportion. And Trieg was right. He needed to respect him and listen to him. He really shouldn't be uncomfortable around Trieg - he was just friendly and Kurt was the one at fault for thinking bad of him. He wouldn't let Trieg down. Resolving then and there, Kurt decided he would trust Trieg. There was no reason to doubt him.

At the next several practices, Kurt, Lance and Mark mostly worked on their own routines, preparing for the tournament coming up that weekend. Lance and Mark were pretty understanding when he told them Trieg wanted him to practice on his own. Of course, he didn't mention anything else that occurred in the coach's office. There wasn't anything to mention.

Surprisingly, Kurt actually felt he missed hanging out with not only Mark, but also Lance. Even though he could be crude, he wasn't too bad to be around. It kinda made him nervous. With the antagonism gone, where did that put them? And then what will happen when inevitably the X-men ended up fighting the Brotherhood? Kurt didn't know how he would handle going up against Lance now that he wasn't just some one-dimensional adversary.

He had to put those thoughts aside and just deal with it whenever it came up. Right now, he had to concentrate on the upcoming tournament.

Jumping up, he grabbed onto the high bar and let muscle memory take control. Gymnastics could be so cleansing - thoughts lifting from his mind as just him and his routine took over.

Unsurprisingly, upon his dismount – a fair landing with just a small hop– he felt a large hand against the small of his back. Trieg had held on to his promise and was constantly watching him and giving out pointers. Kurt did his best at being receptive to Trieg's touches. He needed to keep his own promise to himself. So whenever Trieg touched his shoulders, legs, or back, he decided it was ok. He needed to prove to Trieg that there was a measure of trust and respect.

"That was great. It's going to be hard for anyone to match that." Trieg kindly smiled down at Kurt.

Kurt tried to smile back; but despite his conviction, he still had a hard time relaxing at Trieg's touch. It was something he'd have to work on. "Um, thanks."

"You've done well. It seems that you really listened to our talk. Makes me proud." Trieg pulled Kurt in for a hug, his hand trailing near Kurt's waist before releasing him.

Kurt took a step back to get some needed space, but luckily Trieg was already on his way to the pommel horse to help out Reese.

"I'm so proud of you too," came a mocking voice from behind. "Let's all have one big hug."

Kurt jumped a bit, surprised by Lance's silent approach. He turned to face Lance, who was standing with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"Oh shut up." Kurt bent down to retrieve his water bottle. "He's just trying to be encouraging."

"To you." Lance sneered in Trieg's direction. He watched Coach shaking his head at Reese - radiating clear disappointment in Reese's ineptitude on the pommel horse. "He hasn't even said shit to me in two weeks."

"Who are you again?" Kurt said sarcastically as he leaned his head back to take a drink of water.

Lance lightly pushed him, causing water to drip all over the sides of his face.

"Hey!" Kurt wasn't too offended, though, as he could see Lance suppressing a laugh.

"I'm unforgettable. And don't you forget."

Kurt laughed as he wiped the water from his face. Surreptitiously, he angled his water bottle towards Lance.

"You know," Lance began as he turned to look at everyone practicing, "this tournament is going to –"

Whatever Lance was going to say was cut off when a stream of water splashed against the whole side of face and shirt. Kurt stopped squeezing his water bottle and waited as Lance foolishly turned towards him. A look of surprise and indignation was painted across Lance's face for a brief second before Kurt sprayed him again directly in the face.

"You are so dead. Thus ends the life of one Kurt Wagner."

"Oh, Coach Trieg. Lance and I were just about to get back to practice," Kurt did his best to pretend he saw Trieg approaching from behind. Luckily, his ruse worked.

As Lance turned around, Kurt took the time to escape to where Mark was practicing on the parallel bars.

Mark was in the middle of a handstand, his blond hair sweeping a bit from his face. He gave a curious look to Kurt.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked as he swung out of the handstand to hang from the bars.

"Nothing. Why would anything be wrong? Just eager to practice next." Kurt tried to smile nonchalantly.

Mark just shrugged and continued with his routine.

Kurt peeked back over his shoulder only to be startled by Lance standing right behind him.

"I am so going to get you back. Just you wait," Lance threatened but his voice lacked any menace. In fact, Kurt would say he was almost smiling under his poised glare.

Kurt watched Mark alongside Lance, any worries about Trieg scattering to the wind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings:** Hold true from previous chapters.

**Chapter 5**

Lance was thankful that the tournament had finally come and gone. It was nice to get rid of the jitters that always accompanied a first performance. Like ripping a Band-aid off. He didn't place or even come close, but it was still pretty fun to show off the bit he had learned and to cheer on the rest of the team.

Training with Mark and Kurt again was also a pretty big plus. Lance never would admit it, but he was actually a bit hurt when Kurt first avoided him during the past week. The resulting explanation of Trieg's insistence and the tournament helped, but Lance still couldn't shake his stupid feelings.

Tired of waiting for Mark and Kurt to emerge from the locker room, Lance decided he'd go over to the floor area and practice some new skills. He was having some difficulty with his front handspring. Each time, he was short on his landing, ending up halfway on the ground.

"What new move is this?" Kurt was walking over to Lance, an amused expression crossing his face.

"It's called the 'Suck It Flop.'" Lance tried to perform a kick up from his back straight to his feet, but ended up only flopping like a fish on land. He let out a frustrated groan. "This is just not my day."

Kurt had been fiddling around with his handgrips but dropped them aside to lend a hand to pull Lance up.

"Thanks," Lance said as he took Kurt's offered hand. For a second, Lance was slightly taken aback. Whenever Kurt had helped him practice before, he had always had his handgrips on or had just verbally directed him. He guess he'd never really had much physical contact with Kurt outside of one of their fights. It was strange but not in a bad way. Kind of soft. It was more discombobulating to feel fur and yet see skin.

Lance thought about it and realized he was probably the only one on the team that Kurt would help like this without handgrips on. It kinda made him feel special. A fact that would have to be pried from his cold, dead hands.

Kurt helped him out a bit with his front handspring. Guiding Lance slowly through it with his hands strategically placed to show where his body should be. After a few tries with Kurt hovering just in case Lance needed support, Lance felt like he was ready to try again on his own.

"Ok. Back up. I got this."

It wasn't the prettiest or the most perfect front handspring, but he landed on his feet.

"Hey, not bad," Kurt complimented as he bent down to retrieve his handgrips.

"Yeah, thanks. I couldn't have done it without the most decorated gymnast here." Lance was pretty impressed at the inducer's ability to show the rising blush of Kurt's embarrassment.

"Next time, you'll probably be winning tons of medals along with everyone else."

"Maybe." Lance twisted his back in a stretch to work out the kinks from his workout. "Man, it's weird, though."

"What?"

"Feeling your fur but not seeing it."

"Oh…"

"Yeah. I haven't seen you without your inducer on in ages. Made me forget that you were a freak." Lance knew that was the wrong thing to say, but his brain was too slow to stop his mouth.

He could see Kurt just shut down. Pain quickly flittered across his face only to be hidden by anger. "I'll be sure to avoid touching you in the future so my freakishness doesn't contaminate you."

Lance looked down, ashamed at what he said and even moreso at his inability to apologize. He stammered but nothing came out.

Kurt turned to walk away and Lance was ready to let him go, feeling like such an insensitive clod. Mark, however, was already approaching them both, preventing Kurt from leaving. Taking a look at both their faces, he sighed.

"Alright, what happened?"

"Nothing," Kurt replied.

"Right. That's why you both look like you've just stepped on a Lego."

They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, until Lance sighed in resignation. He had messed up and should just admit it. It'd be just like his first tournament. Get it over and done with and they could move on.

Right before he was ready to forge ahead into his apology, Trieg called for everyone to gather around him in the center of the gym near the parallel bars.

Seeing his confusion reflected in Mark's and Kurt's faces, Lance shrugged and walked over to Trieg. He noticed that Kurt made sure that Mark was standing between them as they joined the others.

Once the team had gathered around the coach, Trieg made his announcement.

"Sorry that I'm late to practice. Just had to get this approved by the principal." He held a piece of paper in his hand that meant nothing to Lance. "I'm so proud of all of you. Last weekend, everyone performed amazingly. I couldn't have asked more from you. Your medals and trophies will be displayed in the cabinet in main hallway.

"Woo!" Jose pumped his fist. He'd placed a solid second on the pommel horse, and had been bragging about showing it off to his girlfriend as soon as he could.

"Woo indeed. To celebrate, I'm going to cut practice short and have us all go out to Tom's Pizza Bistro. I got it approved so we can get a ton of pizza. You'll have to talk it out what types to order. Got it?"

"Yeah, thanks Coach!" Trey said. The rest soon followed him with various thanks and signs of appreciation.

"We'll car pool together, so be sure to grab your stuff first. Since there's just 10 of us in total, we'll need no more than 3 cars. I can take 3 people."

Everyone began turning to each other, some debating who was going to drive and others looking for rides.

"I'll drive," Mark said as he turned towards Lance and Kurt. "You two have to tell me what's going on."

"Hey, can I ride with you guys?" Miguel popped up next to Lance, looking excited for the excursion out for pizza.

Mark had started to shake his head no, but Kurt cut him off. "Of course. Mark's driving. If that's ok?"

"Sure," Miguel said a little less enthused. He looked warily to Mark, as if afraid his glare was going to rip him to shreds.

Mark nodded gruffly. "Fine. Just don't mess with the radio."

As they started towards the locker room to change back into their regular clothes, Lance heard Kurt whisper to Mark about Miguel being a nice guy and to not be so rude. Lance, though, thought Kurt's rush to have Miguel ride with them might have partially been connected to him.

Lance dragged behind the others, disappointed that he probably wouldn't be able to apologize until after dinner. It was from this position that he was able to witness Trieg pull Kurt aside – his hand placed low on Kurt's back - to have some type of hushed conversation. He thought it strange. He wouldn't like that familiar of a touch from the coach, but he didn't have the same close relationship with him like Kurt did.

Lance dawdled a bit so that when Kurt pulled away from Trieg, he was able to catch up to him.

"What did he want?" Lance asked casually.

Kurt's expression didn't hold any clues for Lance to read, but at least he didn't completely snub him. "Just to see if I needed a ride."

"Hey, um." Lance raised a hand behind his head, a little embarrassed about what he had to say. "About earlier…"

"It doesn't matter. We're going to hold up Mark and Miguel if we don't hurry." Kurt rushed off to the lockers, leaving Lance standing there like a fool.

"Just couldn't make this easy on me," Lance grumbled to himself before running to catch up.

Kurt sat in the back of Mark's car with Miguel. While there was a steady flow of conversation, the car ride still felt awkward. What Lance had said had really hurt. He had begun to see Lance as a friend almost, but if Lance still felt that he was some sort of freak….

He had often wondered what it would be like to reveal himself to what he considered his school friends. Usually his daydreams turned more into day nightmares with lots of screaming, vitriol and violence. But Lance already knew, and it just somehow made it worse.

He could see Mark's glances back in the rearview mirror as if he could somehow divine the reason behind Lance's and his turmoil through telepathy. Kurt was very glad Mark was not a mutant.

Mark, however, was a bit of an overly cautious driver and that, paired with their delay to the locker room, put them as the last arrivals. Kurt hopped out quickly, glad to escape the stifling confines of the car.

Tom's Pizza Bistro had that atmosphere that fit perfectly for groups of high school students wanting a place to hang out late after school. Pictures of enticing pizza hung crooked on the offwhite walls. The carpeted floor was caked from years of dropped food and foot traffic that the original color had all but faded to a dingy red. Booths lined the perimeter of the room while square tables covered in a plastic, checkered table cloth filled the center.

The team had already had a few tables arranged in a long, rectangular formation and all of the middle seats were occupied. Miguel took the spare seat on the end next to Reese, leaving only three seats at the far end available. Two to the right of Coach Trieg and one directly across from those, beside Jose.

Mark moved to sit next to Jose while Lance made a beeline to take the end seat, leaving Kurt stuck right between Trieg and Lance.

This was just not his day.

Sighing, he sat down, expecting some type of pat or comment from Trieg, but he seemed engrossed in conversation with Hudson and Martin. Relieved, doing his best to ignore Lance, Kurt turned his attention to Jose directly across.

"You order yet?"

"Just drinks. Figured we'd wait on you slowpokes." Jose took a long, slow sip from his Coke. "To the winners goes the soda."

"Mark here just drives like a grandma," Lance teased.

"I drive how I want," Mark said. "If you don't like, find a different ride."

"Just saying." Lance propped open a menu and began perusing the options. The others followed his lead.

"What do you think you want?" Lance directed to Kurt.

Kurt just shrugged his shoulders, doing the minimal to not be completely rude while also snubbing Lance.

Lance scowled and propped his menu higher to provide a partial screen of privacy.

"Come on, I didn't mean it that way."

Kurt stared icily back. "Can we just not talk about it."

"Not when you're being all pissy."

"Maybe I'll stop being pissy when you stop being an asshole."

Lance's look was thunderous but the waitress arrived just before things could escalate anymore.

After they had placed their order – several cheese, pepperoni and bacon with pineapple pies – and received their drinks, Mark started the conversation back up.

"So I saw _Jackhammer 3._"

"What?" Kurt asked incredulously. "I thought you didn't ever want to see it."

"Yeah, that you're too much of a wuss for horror," Lance added.

Kurt gave Lance a withering look and kicked him under the table. It wasn't cool to reveal Mark's weakness in front of Jose. Lance in turn gave a questioning look, but Kurt had already turned back to Mark. He just really wasn't in the mood to deal with Lance.

"Shelly wanted to see it."

"Shelly?" Kurt asked.

"You know Shelly. Senior, long, black hair. Big tits," Jose described with a leer and a crude gesture.

Kurt and Lance both nodded. Of course, everyone knew Shelly, if not by name at least by chest size.

"She has other attributes, you know." Mark tried to defend.

"Yeah, like what?" Jose retorted.

"She has a nice laugh. Like a chortle. But cute." Mark smiled slightly.

"And how would you know?"

"She wanted to see _Jackhammer 3_. She thought it was funny. It wasn't. It was gross."

"So you're telling me that you took Shelly of Titular Twin Peaks out on a date?"

Mark shrugged and took a sip of his coke.

Jose shook his head in disbelief. "Too cool, man."

"Give us all the details," Lance said.

Whatever Mark was willing to divulge, Kurt missed out because suddenly he felt a hand sliding up over his left leg. He froze and glanced over from the corner of his eyes to look at Trieg. Trieg hadn't changed positions much. He was still faced mostly towards Reese and Hudson and his facial expression didn't give away anything that was happening under the table.

The hand rested there for a bit. Kurt looked down at the table cloth, studying the red and white checkered pattern, unsure of what to do. As if taking his inaction as acquiesce, the hand began to slowly caress up and down his inner thigh. The hand would linger along its route, stopping to lightly trace a design before continuing along. Paralysis had taken hold of Kurt. He wanted to desperately teleport out of the situation, but all he could do was hope that Trieg would grow bored or just… stop.

It felt like an eternity, but when the pizza arrived Trieg removed his hand. Kurt mentally breathed a sigh of relief, wanting to do nothing more than take a shower and cleanse himself from Trieg's touch.

However, his relief didn't last long. As soon as Trieg had doled the pizza out, he immediately replaced his hand. Now emboldened, he would glide his hand higher along Kurt's leg. In front of Kurt, the tablecloth had been replaced with a slice of pepperoni pizza. It looked disgusting. Grease formed pools in the stretched-out cheese, which glistened sickingly under the cheap lighting. Any appetite he'd had had been completely eradicated. All that he could concentrate on was Trieg's touch and a rising, burning shame.

Suddenly, Trieg escalated things when his hand went past his thigh and began stroking his crotch.

Kurt's breath hitched, almost in disbelief at how far Trieg was willing to carry on right in front of the rest of the teammates, concealed only by the tablecloth. It was enough to spur Kurt into to taking some form of action, however small. He shakily put his hand under the table and grabbed Trieg's arm over his sleeve to try and remove it from himself.

Trieg, though, wasn't to be dissuaded. He broke free from Kurt's light grasp and reversed the situation. He grabbed a hold of Kurt's wrist just at the end of his sleeve, narrowly avoiding discovering any fur.

Trieg's hold was tight, and he forced Kurt's hand closer to him, until he placed it on his own erection that bulged through his pants. Kurt tried to pull away but Trieg's grip was like a vise. Trieg started moving Kurt's hand in a rubbing sensation over his erection, slowly at first before picking up pace.

"Hey, you okay? You haven't touched your pizza or said anything in awhile." Mark asked Kurt. This was enough to force Trieg to let go. Kurt quickly brought his hand back to his side, trying to suppress the desperate need to throw up.

Kurt shook his head, maybe a bit too vehemently. Trying to hide any shaking in his voice, he replied, "I'm fine. I'll just be right back."

There was no way he could've stayed and chatted like everything was fine without breaking apart. He wanted nothing more than to just teleport right out but that wasn't an option. The scraping of his chair seemed inexplicitly loud, and the four sets of eyes watching him leave felt like having daggers tracing down his back.

He headed straight to the bathroom. Tom's Pizza Bistro had spared all the expense they could on it. The floor was covered in a myriad of dingy, yellowed tiles while the two stalls were that brown-beige that seemed ubiquitous of all subpar bathrooms everywhere. A couple of urinals were the only fixtures gracing the far side of the room while one, cracked basin served as the room's sink. A glob of bluish gunk stained one side of the sink having slowly dripped like a festering wound from the soap dispenser. There were no paper towels.

Ignoring all of this, Kurt leaned against the sink, head bowed and hands braced on either side as his thoughts reeled in his mind.

All of his rationales couldn't explain this. It was obviously not just friendly touches. He knew before that he was being illogical but he just didn't want to deal with it. He had hoped that maybe it would just all go away. He had wanted so badly to trust Trieg, to have his respect…

As he turned on the water to the sink, he let that thought spin around in his mind like a coin slowly descending to the bottom of a charity vortex funnel. He began to vigorously wash his hands, as if to scour off Trieg's touch.

He was so stupid. Why did he let Trieg do this? Why didn't he try to stop him or say _anything_? He was disgusted with himself for his passivity and felt a creeping guilt rise up his throat. His fault. Letting Trieg do this. He shouldn't have let him get away with all those touches. Acting as if this was all normal. It was almost like he had just said to Trieg that he was fine with it.

And now how could he tell Trieg to stop after pretty much giving him so much latitude? Trieg might react badly; and despite his actions, Kurt still couldn't shake that yearning for respect from Trieg.

There was no way he could tell anyone else. His guilt alone was enough to consume him, but to have someone else know about his culpability. It would feel like his whole world was slowly being swallowed by a black hole. Just the thought of having to confess what was going on made him feel sick and dizzy. What if no one believed him? If Trieg convinced them he was deluded? Or what if nothing happened to Trieg and everything stayed the same?

He shut off the tap as that last fearful thought filled him with a mild panic. Acting in auto, he briefly turned the water back on to cup some in his hand and threw it at a few stray blue furs that had escaped and attached themselves to the side of the sink. He watched as the water carried them away towards the inevitable fall. The habitual action let him slowly get back under control. This time he turned the water off for good. As he listened to the old pipes complain, he began to think about things logically.

Was it really such a big deal? It's not like it was. It's not like Trieg was taking it any further. If he did, Kurt could always teleport away. And he would. It was fine.

As he tried to delude himself into thinking that nothing was amiss, everything was fine, the bathroom door swung hard against the wall. The loud bash of the door hitting the wall jarred Kurt out of his thoughts, and he swiftly straightened up to meet the gaze of a fuming Lance.

"What-" Lance shouted but stopped himself when he realized how loud he was. He waited for the door to slowly swing close before starting again. "What the fuck?" He repeated while stepping forward. Kurt took a wary step back, uncomfortable with Lance's proximity. Trepidation filled him. Had Lance somehow seen what he let Trieg do?

"What do you mean?" Kurt found it difficult to look Lance in the eyes. He placed a shaky hand on the sink's edge to prevent it from revealing his nervousness.

"What do you mean what do I mean? First, you blow me off. Then, you fucking ignore the whole table, like somehow I've tainted everyone with my presence, and now you run off in a huff to hide in the bathroom simply because I called you a freak."

Kurt stared at Lance in bafflement. Thoughts of Lance's earlier insult having been completely taken over by Trieg. He had forgotten entirely about the earlier incident. It seemed so insignificant in comparison.

Lance must've read the confusion on Kurt's face. His anger deflated without a source of contention. "Shit." Lance ran a hand through his hair. "I must look really fucking stupid."

Kurt shook his head. "No. It's just that…" This was the moment that Kurt could confess to someone what was going on, but he just couldn't do it. His mind scrambled for a plausible excuse. "…just that I…don't feel well."

"Oh. Did you throw up?" Lance looked concerned and took another step closer to Kurt, eyes searching for signs of sickness.

"No. I just felt like I needed to." Which wasn't actually a lie.

"Do you still need to?"

"A bit."

"Like right now?" Lance asked nervously.

"I'm not going to throw up on you," Kurt said with exasperation.

"Yeah, ok. Do you want to go home?"

That was the best suggestion Kurt had heard all day. "_Ja._"

"I'm sure Mark won't mind leaving early. And if Miguel wants to stay, he can grab a ride with someone else."

"No, don't worry about that. I'll just teleport home." There was no way that Kurt wanted to be stuck in such close quarters when he just wanted to be alone.

"Will you be ok doing that?"

"I'll be fine." He started heading towards the door, readying himself to face the others.

"Wait," Lance said as he grabbed Kurt's arm just before he passed by. It took all of Kurt's willpower not to rip his arm from Lance. He did _not_ want to be grabbed right now, but luckily Lance let go relatively quickly preventing any histrionics.

Lance looked like he was struggling with what he wanted to say. "I came in here because that is…. I didn't like you ignoring me and I wanted to say that…." Lance sighed heavily. "Look, I'm fucking sorry. I don't think you're a freak. Goddamnit, I think-"

Taking pity on him, Kurt interrupted Lance. "No need to beat yourself up." It still hurt that Lance had called him a freak but at least he apologized. And maybe he was right. Maybe he was a freak, letting Trieg touch and – no. He couldn't think about that now. Shoving his dark thoughts to a small corner of his mind, he concentrated fully on the conversation at hand.

"Besides, you're not that bad, even though you can be a big jerk."

Lance seemed to be slightly abashed by the sentiment, a slight blush gracing his cheeks. "Yeah, I know. It's my thing. And you're not as annoying as I once thought you were."

Kurt couldn't help but smile in amusement at Lance's bluntness.

His smile lasted until they returned back to the dining area, and Kurt spotted Trieg. It was almost like his lie was coming true. A sickness started rolling in his stomach as he caught Trieg's stare. Instead of retaking his seat, he stood with Lance at the head of the table next to Mark.

"Hey, so you guys work it out?" Mark asked.

"Actually, Kurt's not feeling very well, so he's gonna head out," Lance explained.

"Oh." Mark looked over Kurt with concern. "Let me take a few more sips and we can go."

"Nonsense, Mark," Trieg butted in. "There's no need for you to miss out. I'd be happy to take Kurt home early if he needs to go."

Kurt felt his heart speed up, almost feeling cornered by Trieg's suggestion. His mind worked double-time to find an excuse. "I,um, I have a ride. I called already. They're already on their way now. I'm just going to go wait outside for them. The pizza smell is a little gross right now." Kurt pulled a sickly face to add credence to his lie.

"I'll wait with you. Be back in a bit," Lance said. They hurriedly exited so that no one else could offer to join. and Kurt could teleport without an audience.

Kurt led them around the building where only a solitary dumpster awaited their arrival.

"Thanks. I thought for a second we'd have the whole team waiting out here," Kurt said.

Lance looked back towards the entrance of the restaurant. "Yeah…I don't really feel like going back in now."

"Why?" Kurt was a little surprised. He figured Lance would enjoy hanging out with the rest of the team a bit longer.

Lance shrugged. "I dunno. Just not in the mood."

"Well, do you want a lift?" Kurt figured it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Man, whenever you've teleported me, I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"That's because I wanted you to. Otherwise, I can make sidealong teleportation not so bad of a ride."

Lance still looked skeptical but seemed willing to try.

"And you won't throw up on me either, right?" Lance asked warily.

"No guarantees." Lance balked a second before Kurt continued. "Don't worry. I'm feeling a bit better. If I throw up, I'll be sure to lean away from you."

"Alright. Just don't let me forget to text Mark in a bit so he's not wondering where I am."

"Sure." Kurt was relieved that he'd be able to escape without having to face Trieg again. That is until the next practice. He'd worry about that when it arrived. With that, the two teleported in a cloud of purple smoke.

Unbeknownst to Kurt and Lance, Trieg had waited a few minutes before following them outside the restaurant. Their voices floating from the alley clued him in to their location. But when he walked behind the building, they were nowhere in sight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Through the grey clouds, a weak morning light seeped through to shine down on Bayville High. Under tall, oak trees and on the dew-soaked grass, high schoolers were scattered across the front yard, huddled in their preferred cliques. A few pairs of students were standing away from the crowd in semi-secluded spaces, sneaking in a small morning make-out session.

Lance sat atop of the picnic bench outside the school, waiting for the first bell to ring, signaling the start of the day. His feet found purchase on the hard, black plastic of the bench while his elbows balanced on his knees. He face was cradled in his hands as he stared out into space. The morning was crisp and smelled of an oncoming cold-front – a perfect concoction to clear one's mind. He had ditched the other members of the Brotherhood for precisely that reason. He wanted to spend some time alone with his thoughts. Lance's mind kept flittering to his and Kurt's relationship. He felt confused and unsure. They had started out under the charade of social niceties, but at some point the pretense had faded away. In fact, now, they teased each other and joked around, with or without Mark present. He had even felt guilty – _him_ guilty – at calling Kurt a freak. He still felt slightly ashamed when he recalled the hurt look that had graced Kurt's face. He had said he wanted to change himself for the better, but was this too far? What would the rest of the Brotherhood think if he said he'd become friends with a Kurt?

Lance shook his head. He had promised himself over the summer that he was done with trying to fit in with the rest of the Brotherhood. He wanted to dissociate himself from them, annoyed at their childish antics. He wanted to become better. He couldn't do that if he always wondered what they thought.

He had fun with Kurt and liked him. But then again, they mostly interacted only at gymnastics practice. He avoided him at all other times. Maybe that said more about the state of their relationship than anything else. Lance sighed heavily to himself and shifted on the bench, eliciting a scraping noise as his jeans rubbed against the plastic. Then there was that time in the bathroom at Tom's Pizza Bistro. He liked remembering that moment when he made Kurt smile, easing that tension from whatever it was he was upset about. Maybe he did want to be friends with Kurt but didn't know how to go about it. He didn't want to fuck it up like it seemed he did everything else.

The picnic table creaked under extra weight as someone climbed up to join Lance.

"Thinking deeply or hardly thinking," Mark said as he settled in next to Lance.

"Just thinking." Lance straightened up and leaned back on his hands to look over at Mark.

Mark leaned back alongside Lance, surveying the growing throng of students. "I'm glad that you and Kurt got over whatever it was. Your friendship is brand new. Needs daily watering and care. Like a plant." Mark sagely nodded as if some friendship guru.

"What, we're not friends," Lance retorted back without thinking. It was so easy to be defensive, especially when the sensitive issue was at the fore of his mind.

Mark just rolled his eyes. "Fine, then you're not friends."

Lance huffed, unsure if he was happy with Mark's quick acquiescence or confused on how his statement made him feel.

"But, I've figured it out," Mark continued on as if Lance's remark was irrelevant.

Lance took the bait. "Figured what out?"

"Why you want to be friends with Kurt."

Sitting up, Lance crossed his arms. "Why do you think I even want to be friends with him?"

"You already are but since we're in this whole denial stage, I'll tell you why. You want his

approval."

"Fucking Christ, you're talking out of your ass now."

"No. You said yourself that you aren't a nice guy but are trying to be better. Kurt's probably one

of the nicest guys, and you want his stamp of approval that now you too are nice."

Lance scoffed. "That is the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard."

"I talked to my parents."

"This again?" Lance scowled, still not too pleased that Mark conversed with his parents about him. He wondered what else Mark's parents had analyzed about him, but it was probably best he never found out.

"They're psychologist. Can't argue with a Ph.D."

"Fine. Then what about Kurt. Why has he been all buddy-buddy with me? Did you ask your parents about that?" Lance asked snidely.

"Why wouldn't he want to be friends with you?"

Lance just stared at Mark. Mark's candid tone and the implication of his statement created a euphoric feeling that slowly overtook Lance. He knew he wasn't always kind and could be a jackass but knowing that Mark really did value their friendship. That was awesome.

Mark shook his head and smiled. "Sometimes, you're just too hard on yourself."

Lance thought back to what Mark said and felt a little upset. "So I'm just using Kurt to feel good about myself? That makes me sound like a complete dick."

"And sometimes you're a complete idiot. That's not what I said." A loud bell resounded three times, signaling the ten minute countdown until the start of class. Mark jumped off the bench and straightened his backpack that hung off one shoulder.

"You said I wanted his stamp of approval."

"Yeah, everyone wants their friends' approval. It's part of friendship. You just get the extra benefit of feeling good about yourself by not being friends with an asshole. Afterall, who you're friends with says something about yourself."

Lance stood up next to Mark, thinking on what he said.

"The problem is is that you two are only just school friends. Not even school friends, just gymnastics friends. All of us. It's time for us to step up our game. So I have a plan."

Lance looked warily at Mark but waited to hear out his idea that would somehow bring their friendship to the next level.

"You two are coming with me to the movies this Saturday. We're going to hang out every weekend until you believe me that you two are friends. Not just acquaintances or gymnastics friends. But actually friends that hang out doing shit."

Lance rolled his eyes but he didn't argue. Whenever Mark got an idea in his head, there wasn't much that could change his obstinate mind.

The five-minute bell rang, and any stragglers left outside started making their way to the entrance of the school.

"We'll talk more about it at gymnastics practice today," Mark said as he and Lance merged with the rushing crowd. "You'll see. It'll be great." They soon parted ways to head off to their first class.

Mark kept true to his word. The first thing he said when Lance arrived to gymnastic practice was how they needed to talk to Kurt to plan their weekend.

"Ready to put my plan into action?" Mark asked from his perch on the pommel horse.

Lance paused in between his situps, draping his body over his knees. "Your stupid plan from this morning?"

"The only stupid thing I see here is a doubter. Never doubt me. Now go get Kurt."

"Why do I have to do it? I'm sitting down," Lance whined.

"Just think of it as your first step to friendship. Besides, I wanna get started on my routine." Mark patted the pommel horse with two hardy slaps.

"Fine. Where is he anyway?" Lance stood up and stretched his arms across his body before scanning the room.

"Think he was late. Just look for Trieg." Mark's voice had a slight growl to it. "Lately, that's all he's done is hover over Kurt like a lingering fart cloud."

Lance grinned in amusement at Mark's description of Trieg. "Don't like Trieg much still."

Mark shrugged. "Just something off about him. Look, see." Mark pointed over to the opposite side of the room where an area of the mats had been cleared for weight-lifting and stretching. Kurt was sitting cross-legged with his back to them, probably having just finished stretching. And true to Mark's words, Trieg was bent down next to him, his right arm casually placed around Kurt's shoulder. "As I said, like a leech."

"Well, as long as he's not sucking Kurt dry, I think Kurt can handle his attention."

"Yeah, probably. Just go help him out and remove Leech Trieg."

Giving his arms a few, large swings to finish his warm-up, Lance sauntered across the mats, giving a wide berth to the apparatuses in the middle of the room to avoid getting hit by a teammate. As he approached Kurt and Trieg, he began to call out to Kurt but stopped himself. Trieg was awfully close to Kurt and seemed to be speaking to him in low tones. Kurt's posture read all sorts of tense, like a spring wound up tightly.

Trieg must've sensed his presence because he pulled back from Kurt to turn around and look at Lance. "Alvers, what brings you over here? Need help with something?"

Lance stared for a second. He swore that when Trieg sat back that he saw him remove his left hand from Kurt's leg. Blinking and shaking his head, Lance figured his eyes must've been playing a trick.

Kurt stood up quickly away from Coach Trieg, one arm slightly holding the other as if for protection.

Unsure of what to make of the situation, Lance's mind stumbled a bit before responding to Trieg. "Just wanted to talk to Kurt."

"Sure." With a grunt, Trieg picked himself off the ground. "I was just about done anyway. You two have fun." Trieg hummed a bit as he walked off, a light bounce to his step.

Once alone, Lance cautiously asked, "Is everything ok?"

"Y-yeah. Fine," Kurt responded, his voice had a small tremble in it.

"That was the most non-convincing fine ever. What's going on?"

"Nothing." Kurt tried to get himself back under composure. "Nothing's wrong. Why?" His smile came out a little wobbly, but Lance figured he'd drop it. It was obviously the same problem that was bothering Kurt at the pizza parlor and most likely Trieg was helping him out. As Mark had pointed out, they weren't close friends yet so no reason to think that Kurt would be willing to open up to either him or Mark about it anyways.

"You just seemed…" Lance shrugged. "Anyway, Mark has a great plan for all of us and needs you to be there so you too can bask in its glory."

"Okay," Kurt said hesitantly, unsure of what Mark's "great plan" could be.

Lance and Kurt wound up catching the end of Mark's pommel horse routine, his dismount ending with Mark bent on one knee.

"Figured I'd try out a new dismount. Still needs work," Mark commented as he straightened up.

"Everything else seems pretty good. You've really improved," Kurt said.

"Thanks."

"So I hear you have some great plan." Kurt jumped up on the pommel horse and took a seat on the left side. Mark heaved himself up on the right, leaving Lance standing in front of them completing their small circle.

"I do. We're all going to the movies on Saturday." Mark stated cogently, as if challenging them to doubt his plan.

Lance caught Kurt's raised eyebrow as if questioning 'this is his great plan.' Lance shrugged but allowed Mark to explain.

"Right now we're all gymnastics friends. This way we'll be friend friends."

"Is this something your parents recommended?" Kurt asked wryly.

Lance almost laughed. Kurt must've also gotten the "my parents are psychologists" spiel before.

"It's a good strategy." Lance noticed that Mark didn't answer Kurt.

"Ok," Kurt capitulated readily, game to Mark's idea.

Figuring it could be fun and why not humor Mark, Lance asked, "Alright, then what movie?"

"Anything but horror. _Jackhammer _still haunts my thoughts." Mark made a gagging motion as if the mere suggestion of gore would make him lose his lunch.

"How about _Treepocalypse_?" Kurt posited as he started to lean back but then caught himself before falling backwards off the pommel horse.

"The one about the trees attacking the city? Could be good," Lance said.

"Sounds good. I'll text you guys what time I can get tickets." Mark jumped off the pommel horse. "Better get back to practice before Trieg comes over here to chew us out. I'm gonna go work on the parallel bars." With that, Mark took his leave.

"I wonder what made him want to do this," Kurt pondered out loud.

"I dunno. Might as well humor him. Come with me to the floor. I want to show you the new pass I've been working on." Lance worked with Kurt for the rest of practice, wondering whether Mark's plan was going to be as successful as he hoped or backfire completely.

Saturday continued the trend of overcast skies, but at times, the sun would peak through the clouds and add a bit of light and warmth to the air. Lance, Mark and Kurt met outside the theater, Mark flourishing the tickets in his right hand. After stopping by the refreshment counter for some drinks and popcorn, the three made their way to the dim theater. There was a smattering of groups spread throughout the theater, but overall the audience size was relatively small. Choosing some seats at the top, Mark led them over and jostled his way to the middle of the room for a prime view.

Lance found himself smack dab in the middle, a big bowl of buttery popcorn perched in his lab for everyone to reach. They were only able to chat just a bit before the theater darkened and the previews started. One particular preview promised a thrilling time when a group of teenagers embark on a cruise and are slowly picked off one by one.

"Think we can convince Mark to see that?" Kurt leaned over and whispered to Lance.

Lance snorted. "Fat chance on that. Maybe if one of us grows some big tits."

Kurt had to stifle a laugh to not disturb the other moviegoers.

The movie itself, sadly, was not as entertaining as the previews. Lance guessed there was only so much one could do with trees attacking a city. If he had to watch another person get hauled up into some creepy, dark boughs by some twisted branches, he might just throw his drink at the screen. Sighing, he turned to look at Mark, but he seemed engaged with the dreck on the screen. No accounting for taste. Rolling his eyes, Lance looked to his right at Kurt who was resting his face against his hand, looking as bored as Lance felt.

An idea began to form in Lance's head. This was a perfect moment for him to get back at Kurt all those weeks ago when Kurt doused him with water during gymnastics practice. Grasping his soda in hand, Lance smirked to himself. This was going to be good and hey, he got free refills anyway. Making sure that Kurt was thoroughly distracted by the borefest on the screen, Lance pried off the lid to throw the remnants of his drink at Kurt. Lance, though, underestimated how much of the ice had melted and mixed with the remaining soda. As he threw the drink, most of it ended up sloshing off the side, landing in Kurt's lap.

While not exactly what he was going for, Lance's plan was still mostly successful. Kurt jumped a mile in his seat, letting out a surprised yelp.

Mark didn't even turn from the screen.

"Lance!" Kurt whispered furiously.

Lance just snickered in response.

As Kurt stood up to rid himself off the sloshy mess, his inducered form wavered back and forth between his true self and the fake image. Kurt nervously looked towards Mark before shaking off the coke and ice from his hand. The jarring motion didn't seem to help, and in the next second, the inducer shorted out completely. Not wasting time, Kurt ported out of the theatre.

Lance felt horrible. He was just trying to have some fun, and it seemed he'd fucked it up again. He just hoped that Kurt hadn't abandoned them completely. He leaned over to Mark to tell him that he was going to the bathroom, and Mark just nodded, still glued to the screen.

Lance dutifully checked every bathroom or possible location he thought Kurt might've ported to before heading around to the back of the theater.

When he peeked his head outside, a few light sprinkles and ominous, dark clouds portended a greater storm.

"Kurt?" Lance called out but the only he response he got was distant thunder. Not really wanting to get wet but figuring he should be thorough, Lance stepped out. There were a few cars parked behind the theater – most likely employees - but otherwise it seemed vacant. Lance yelled out again and almost jumped a foot in the air when Kurt appeared au natural in a cloud of smoke in front of him. "Where-"

"I was on the roof." Kurt gestured up while fiddling with his watch in his hand. "I think it's dead."

"I'm sorry. _Again_." Lance ran his hands threw his hair in a frustrated motion. "God, I'm such a fuck up."

"It's not really a big deal. Mark didn't notice, right?" Kurt glanced at Lance but then quickly away.

Lance could tell that while Kurt was trying to pass it off, he seemed a bit hurt.

"No, he didn't." Lance put his hand on Kurt's shoulder, wanting to draw his attention. He didn't want Kurt to start acting all weird around him again. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to break your watch."

"No, it's not that. It's just sometimes…"

Lance waited a second; but when Kurt didn't continue, he shifted his weight, unsure how to proceed. While he was glad that Kurt didn't seem upset about his actions, it was something else. Lance didn't know if he should drop it or try to draw it out of Kurt.

A rumbling resounded, heading towards them like an approaching train before fat drops plummeted from the sky. The sidewalk resembled a battlefield. Like cannonballs eradicating the enemy, the raindrops left dark splotches splattered across the chalk white. Lance watched as Kurt shivered as a cold drop slide down the back of his neck.

"Anyway, I should probably go before it really starts pouring, and you need to get back to

Mark," Kurt said, backing away a bit.

The moment had passed and Lance had missed his chance. Not wanting to bring the mood back down, Lance let Kurt change the subject. "You know, I did say I'd get back at you."

"Back at me?"

"You know, for that time in gymnastics."

It took Kurt a second to remember what Lance was referring to, but Lance could tell the second

he remembered by the glint in his eyes. "Hah, oh yeah. Next time, maybe something a little less sticky." Kurt held out his hand. His fur looked stuck together in small, viscous clumps.

"I don't just get even, I do it better." Since Kurt wasn't upset, Lance felt it was perfectly fine to gloat.

"Well, now you'll have to come up with some excuse to give Mark for why I had to go."

"W-what? Hey, that's not fair."

"You're the one that made this sticky mess. And at least I get to miss the rest of that awful movie. So thanks." Kurt grinned, pleased with the silver lining he'd found.

"It is pretty bad," Lance agreed, not really wanting to sit the rest of the way through. He'd rather just spend the rest of the movie out here with Kurt, but he knew that Mark would notice at some point and come searching for them.

"Alright, I gotta go."

"Hey, um," Lance started. He'd had fun today and wanted to do it again. He just wasn't sure if Kurt was willing. "Next time, the soda's on me."

"Ok," Kurt smiled deviously. "Be sure to bring a change of clothes, then." He ported away before Lance caught on to what he meant.

Lance headed back into the theater, a light feeling spreading through him, burning away any traces of chill left from the rain. Maybe Mark's idea wasn't so crazy afterall.

Lance was pleased. After getting together several more times to watch movies, play games and just general hanging out, he could with surety call Mark, Kurt and him friends. It made him feel pretty good about himself. He had friends, good friends that wouldn't backstab him – something he didn't feel like he had with the Brotherhood.

Stuffing his English folder in his backpack, Lance closed his school locker door. The empty hallways echoed the lone sound that would've normally been drowned out by a cluster of chatting students. He fumbled with his lock before getting it to click shut. Even though Mark was absent today, having gotten sick over the weekend, gymnastics practice was still fun. And luckily Kurt had inadvertently reminded him of the English paper that was due on Monday, giving Lance time to retrieve it from his locker.

Although their friendship seemed to be relatively flourishing, Lance wished Kurt would tell him what it was that seemed to be constantly upsetting him. Both Mark and he had commented how sometimes Kurt just shut down around them or avoided them completely. It was strange, and Lance thought Kurt usually acted off right after having talked with Trieg. Lance wondered what in the hell it was Trieg and Kurt talked about. Was Trieg really helping cause Kurt always seemed more distressed after their little powwows.

Figuring Kurt would tell him when ready and that he'd done enough navelgazing for today, Lance headed back to the gym. Most likely everyone had headed out already, but Lance still needed to change back to his normal clothes.

Crossing the gym floor, the mats absorbed his footfalls. He regretted going out in the school hallways barefooted, but he liked the feeling of the soft, spongy mat underneath his feet. He'd just have to scrub them well when he got home. Grasping the locker room door, he expected an empty room to greet him, but he ended up staring in shock.

Down at the far end, Trieg was standing just behind Kurt. If he took just one incremental step, he'd be practically pushing Kurt into his locker. His hands rested on Kurt's hips, a familiar and intimate gesture that made Lance's skin crawl. Kurt's face was concealed by his open locker, but Lance could see one hand was tightly gripping the locker door. Lance could only hear low tones from Trieg as he murmured into Kurt's ear.

Having seen enough, Lance loudly made his entrance, depositing his backpack on a bench with a thump, causing Trieg to jerk back from Kurt.

"Alvers, didn't realize you were still around." Trieg commented nonchalantly, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Just giving Kurt some last minute stance pointers."

Lance just stared him down, not believing Trieg's excuse.

Trieg seemed unfazed by Lance's glare. "I'll let you two finish packing up so you can get home. See you at practice next week." Trieg, a fake grin plastered on his face, walked by Lance, giving him a brief pat on his way out.

Kurt hadn't moved from his position by his locker except Lance thought he seemed to be a bit less tense now that Trieg had left.

Lance wasn't going to let Kurt hide and avoid the problem this time. This had to be it, what was upsetting Kurt so often. Lance couldn't believe how blind he'd been. He never should've dismissed it from his mind, all those small, strange moments he noticed between Trieg and Kurt. He needed to see Kurt's face. Moving quickly, Lance crossed the locker room and gently closed Kurt's locker door.

Kurt backed away and sat down on the bench, still facing away from Lance as if he was ashamed to look at him. Lance sat down next to him, almost wishing that Mark was there with his wisdom from his psychologist parents.

But it was just him.

"I'm gonna guess this is what's been upsetting you lately."

Kurt didn't reply at first but then he nodded imperceptibly.

"You know, he shouldn't do that. You shouldn't let him touch you like that." Lance saw that Kurt had his hands clenched in fists on his knees as if somehow that could contain all the emotions he was feeling. But he couldn't just drop the conversation. Not this time. "I don't understand why you let him-"

"I don't want-" Kurt began sharply but broke off before he finished what he was going to say. "Can we not talk about this here?"

"We _need_ to talk about this." Lance started growing frustrated. Couldn't Kurt see that this wasn't something to sweep aside.

"I know," Kurt said irritably. "Just not here, okay?"

Even though the locker room was empty, Lance thought Kurt had a point. It probably wasn't too comfortable of a place to have this conversation, and Trieg could walk in at any second. "Alright, then to where?"

"There's this park on the way back to the mansion. It's pretty secluded."

"Ok, fine. Let me grab my stuff, and we can go." Lance walked over and picked up his gym bag and backpack. He'd just have to worry about changing his clothes later. He didn't want to delay any further. "Up to giving us a shortcut?"

"Yeah, just not in here." Kurt pointed to a camera that was mounted in the seam where the ceiling met the wall. It had been installed after a series of thefts from the locker room. They'd been promised that the film would only be reviewed upon suspicion of criminal activities occurring and they'd be informed prior to viewings. Still, Lance thought Kurt was being practical. No reason to take the administration at their word.

Kurt led them around to one of his "safe spots" and ported them to the park.

In contrast to the past few weeks, the sky was clear as the sun began its descent in the sky. Yellow and orange tinted the few stray clouds in the air. Kurt was right in that the park was well secluded. Woods surrounded the park on all four sides with well-worn trails leading out to the road. The park itself was relatively small. There was a basketball court, enough for only one goal, a few scattered picnic tables, and then a swath of long grass turned brown from the fall.

"Not many people come here, so it's pretty nice," Kurt commented.

"Yeah, just some loser who lost their Frisbee in a tree." Lance pointed to the red disc stuck way high up in the branches of a bare tree.

"That loser is me. I put it up there so I wouldn't have to remember each time I came here with Scott or the others."

"Oh."

Kurt ported up and grabbed the Frisbee and threw it towards Lance from his perch. Lance barely caught it by the tip of his fingers, a little out of Frisbee practice. Kurt ported back down and for awhile as the sun continued setting, they tossed the Frisbee back and forth. Lance found it relaxing and thought the ease in tension might make the pending conversation easier.

After one particular hard dive Lance performed to catch the disc, he wound up on his stomach in the grass. Already feeling tired from gymnastics practice, Lance made himself comfortable, needing a break. The grass crunched under him as he nestled down further, head coming to rest on his hands folded in front of him. Kurt came and joined him, sitting cross-legged beside him.

Kurt picked up one of the brown leaves that littered the ground and began to twirl it in his hand. "You know, even though Mark can be pretty demanding, he had a good idea – us hanging out and all."

Lance inwardly smiled. He knew that Kurt and he were friends now. It just felt good to have it confirmed out loud.

"Yean, strange, though. How he just suggested that. He seemed really determined for us to hang out." Lance watched Kurt play with the leaf from the corner of his eye before reaching out with his hand to pick a particularly crunchy-looking one of his own to fiddle with.

"Don't tell him I said this, but I kind of think Mark is actually lonely."

Lance looked questioningly at Kurt, wanting to hear out his thoughts.

"A lot of people are turned off by his gruffness. He doesn't hang out with a lot of people during school."

"Well, that's stupid. Mark's a cool guy."

Kurt smiled in agreement before laying down on his back beside Lance. "Maybe sometimes some _Arschlochs_ are not as bad as they seem at first."

"Sometimes, though, some people are just complete fucking – oh." It took Lance a second to get that Kurt was referring to him. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You know, I've been wondering. Why did you join the gymnastics team in the first place?" Kurt still had the leaf in his hand, but now he was tearing it into small pieces that drifted to his chest to create a mosaic of brown on his maroon shirt. The shredding made a satisfying sound.

Lance thought back to that memory which set off a chain of events that led to this previously improbable moment. It was during the long days of summer. There hadn't been anything happening. No fighting, no missions, nothing. He remembered standing in the kitchen, looking into the living room. It was a fucking pigsty in there. No one had bothered cleaning in ages. Empty pizza boxes and Chinese take-out along with a few porno rags composed the carpeting of the floor. Freddie was sprawled out on the couch, one hand in a bag of chips and one clutching a soda as he mindlessly flipped through the channels. Pietro and Todd were arguing about something again – he couldn't remember exactly what- something pointless and stupid. It wasn't any different from any other day in the summer, but maybe that was precisely it. He stood there watching them and thought this was what he was. What he was a part of. This pointlessness. This stagnation. He could either join in and become part of the juvenile tableau or go out and do something. Change something. Be something. Be better than all of this and what he was before. He hadn't immediately decided on signing up for gymnastics, but that one, small moment was the first spark.

He told Kurt this in not so many words, and Kurt just listened. He didn't really say anything but he didn't judge either. After he was finished, they sat in companionable silence for a bit. Lance thought how it just felt good to just be himself at the moment. No worrying about trying to fit in or act cool. He turned to look at Kurt who was reposed in supreme relaxation. One hand was tossed above his head and his eyes seemed focus on the late autumn sunset that was beginning to surrender to a crisp night. A stray thought skittered across Lance's mind that slowly took shape and grew. He ended up staring at the inducer on Kurt's hand that was stretched above his head. With one simple flick, he could turn it off. Then it would be him and the real Kurt. Not that the inducer changed his personality or created some alternate version. Just that Lance thought it was unfair that he could feel free to be himself while Kurt couldn't.

For a moment, Lance wondered what that would be like – to constantly be hiding what he really was. In a way, he did but not like Kurt. Thinking back to that time at the theater, a small epiphany started to encroach on him. Maybe what Kurt was upset about then was that frustration. Lance couldn't imagine having to deal with that.

Lance's hand crept towards Kurt's on its own volition, a bare inch away from touching the inducer when Kurt suddenly turned towards him. Lance quickly withdrew his hand.

Kurt stared at him curiously, unsure of what Lance had intended to do.

Lance stammered, "Sorry. Um, I was just thinking." He was glad that Kurt had interrupted his compulsion. Deactivating the inducer, even if they were alone, would be a breach of trust. It wasn't up to him, and he bet Kurt would've been pretty pissed.

"About what?"

Lance thought this would be a perfect time to discuss what they had really come to the park for. Besides, it matched with his thoughts. When Kurt was wearing his inducer, obviously he also had to be careful about people touching him to avoid discovering his fur. If Trieg's hand had slipped even once, Kurt's secret would be out.

"About Trieg," Lance replied, slightly trepidatious about Kurt's reaction. Afraid he would just teleport away to avoid the conversation completely.

Immediately Kurt's posture went from relaxed to rigid. He sat up and bowed his head forward, his hair falling in front of his face. "Oh." He brushed away the pieces of leaf that had stuck to his shirt, as if trying to avoid looking at Lance.

"This is why we came out here." Lance sat up too, leaning a bit forward so he could catch a glimpse of Kurt's face. "I was thinking of how Trieg could've found out. You know. About you."

"He hasn't," Kurt replied tersely.

"But he could've."

Kurt sighed and stopped trying to remove the last tenacious leaf speck. His tone came out defeated. "I know."

"Has he?" Lance paused, not sure how to phrase such an uncomfortable question for both him and Kurt. "How far has he…?"

"He hasn't done anything. I mean, nothing different from what you've seen."

"So just the excessive pats and such?"

"Yeah." Kurt didn't dare look at Lance. His fingers twitched nervously as he hid the full truth. Lance didn't need to know how far Trieg had really gone. "Today was just the most… aggressive he's been."

"That's good then. I mean that's not good but at least he hasn't tried touching you, you know…" Lance trailed off. It was an awkward conversation. "But I still think you should tell him to stop. It just isn't right."

"Do you really think that's going to convince him?"

Lance shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. I mean maybe he has it in his head that you're okay with it. Tell him it makes you uncomfortable. If he listens, then great. If not, you could always drop out of gymnastics or you know there's not that much longer for the season."

"I'd still have PE with him. But I guess he leaves me mostly alone then."

Lance took courage that Kurt seemed to be coming around to his idea. "Yeah. I think if you just talk to him everything'll be fine. He's probably just lonely. I don't think he's married. He just got too attached to you."

Kurt made a noncommittal reply to that.

"So will you talk to Trieg?"

Kurt hesitated a second, thinking on the validity of Lance's suggestion. "_Ja_, I'll do it."

"Monday then?"

Kurt nodded before standing up and wiping the grass from the seat of his pants. "We should get going."

By now, only the barest of light filtered through the bottom of the trees as the sun bid a final adieu. Lance hadn't even noticed the few lights humming on as dusk had settled, illuminating the basketball court and one of the paths out.

Lance waited as Kurt returned the Frisbee to its spot in the trees. He felt proud of himself. He gave out some solid advice, had an otherwise relaxing time and felt that they had both opened up a bit more to each other. He wouldn't mind an outing of just them two again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Notes:

So Lance does kinda say the wrong things in this last conversation (saying how Kurt should've just stopped him). But I figured that'd be more realistic to stumble on what to say, especially when he doesn't have the full truth in front of him.

And though there isn't much action in this chapter, I wanted to build up Lance and Kurt's relationship, especially since I am going to add some slash (starting next chapter). Speaking of which, next chapter, shit hits the fan.

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to review. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Lance walked through the front doors of the X-mansion into the ornate entry way. A scarlet, plush rug laced with intricate golden threads and a high-vaulted ceiling hinted at the splendor of the rest of the mansion. He had been to the mansion several times, had even lived there for a brief stint, but the décor could still give him pause.

"Hey," greeted Kurt as he closed the front door behind Lance. "I didn't think you'd come."

"Yeah," Lance replied while scanning the hallways. He was wary of running into Kitty. Even though they'd been broken up for almost a year, it would still be awkward to see her around.

"Don't worry, no one else is around. They're out shopping at the mall." Kurt must've noticed Lance's discomfort, but knowing he wouldn't have to face a confrontation, Lance relaxed.

He followed Kurt through the rest of the mansion, glad that Kurt must've felt comfortable enough around him to not wear his inducer. After grabbing a snack in the kitchen, Kurt ported them straight to the Danger Room which had been transformed into a fully equipped gymnastics arena. They practiced for a bit together and fooled around on the apparatuses. Until somehow the two of them wound up standing in front of each other.

Kurt was saying something, but Lance couldn't concentrate on it. In fact, it seemed he couldn't focus on anything. Without thinking, letting impulse take control, Lance leaned slightly down and kissed Kurt. At first chastely and then after receiving a positive, tentative response, began to deepen the kiss.

Lance abruptly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times before sitting up in his bed. His bedside clock reading 3:45 a.m. lent a greenish tint to the otherwise dark room. He'd been dreaming. Slowly, he lay back down, repeating the mantra in his head that it was just a dream. His eyes slowly closed, and he began floating in a state between being half-asleep and half-awake. His mind drifted back to his dream and added some salacious details and excitement. He imagined the kiss becoming more passionate, more frantic. He could practically feel his fingers running through Kurt's hair and slowly leading them to the floor and –

Lance bolted up in bed again – in disbelief that his mind would betray him twice.

This wasn't… he didn't….

Trying to sort through his turbid thoughts, Lance acted on autopilot. He leaned over and picked up his pillow that had somehow fallen off in the middle of the night. He brought it on top of his lap, hiding the evidence that his dream had an effect on him.

He wasn't gay. Not that being gay was bad. It just wasn't for him. Besides, he had dated Kitty. In fact, sometimes he still used her as fantasy material when he wanted to beat one out. His thoughts had sometimes conjured up a few enticing male figures when he was likewise occupied, but he had always been able to squash and ignore them. But this dream and post-fantasizing was a whole different level.

Did that make him bi? He could deal with that. As long as he could ignore half of that equation, he'd be perfectly fine. No one needed to know.

Lance thought back to the dream and could feel deep inside that he wanted to desperately let the rest of the fantasy play out. Leaning down into his pillow on his lap, Lance released a muffled cry of frustration. Goddamnit. He wasn't supposed to like guys. He wasn't supposed to start liking _another _X-man. And he most certainly wasn't supposed to like blue, fuzzy ones at that.

Sighing heavily, he fell backwards back onto his bed, bringing his pillow over his face. It didn't matter. It was just a stupid fantasy. It didn't have any real world implications. He could have his fun in the privacy of his own room and then everything else could continue on normally. He could hang out with Mark and Kurt and nothing would be different. Though… thinking about last Friday at the park. He wanted to repeat that again, when it was just him and Kurt. The conversation was nice – at least until he had to bring up Trieg - and he felt relaxed and content. Plus, he could imagine things going differently next time. The two of them, lying on the grass. The setting sun's light playing across Kurt's face. The secluded area.

Lance clutched the pillow tightly over his face to stop that train of thought before it left the station. Relaxing a bit to give himself some room to breathe, he sat there in the dark for a few minutes, trying to clear his mind.

Ok, so he was maybe, possibly, a tiny bit attracted to Kurt. It was probably just a phase. The confusing start to their friendship was what was throwing him off. He'll do like he said. Ignore it and it'll go away. Just ignore it and it'll all just go away. Chanting this in his mind, Lance eventually fell asleep.

Kurt picked up his tray from the lunch line, and headed into the crowded, bustling cafeteria. Successfully dodging one kid who suddenly stopped in the middle of an aisle between two long lunch tables, Kurt eventually made his way to where Mark was sitting. Earlier, Mark had beckoned him to join him and it was only until now that he finally trudged through the lunch line.

"Took you long enough," Mark said as he unwrapped a ham and cheese sandwich dripping with mayo from a brown paper bag.

"They ran out of pizza and started serving spaghetti." Kurt made a face at the disgusting slop on his tray. The "meat" looked slightly off color, more grey than brown, and the red sauce was so bright, it could be radioactive.

"The same spaghetti they served last Friday?"

"Looks like it." Kurt shoved his fork in the mess of noodles and lifted it directly above his tray. Instead of eating the slop, he watched the noodles slowly plop back onto his tray in a slimy mess. The sauce slightly splattered, turning the table into a crime scene.

"Here." Mark reached into his sack and pulled out another sandwich. Purple jelly intermixed with crunchy peanut butter clung to the sides of the plastic wrap. "I got two. Take it."

"You sure?"

"I'm not going to let you eat something that might attack you."

Kurt took the proffered sandwich, grateful that the spaghetti would remain untouched. "Thanks." He had actually grown to like PB&J sandwiches after being in America for awhile.

"Lance going to join us?"

After swallowing a sticky bit, Kurt responded. "Doubtful." He couldn't break it to Mark that Lance wouldn't be caught dead sitting with him in front of the rest of the Brotherhood.

"His loss," Mark shrugged before tearing open a bag of chips. He held it out to Kurt, who took a few.

"I owe you one." Kurt munched on a chip before asking. "So go on any more dates with Shelly?"

"Just a few. I really do like her, but she said she only wants to date around. Not get stuck in a relationship." Mark was trying to pass it off, but it was obviously from the tone in his voice that Shelly's rejection had been a blow to him.

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I'm not good with sharing. So I don't think I'll ask her out again."

Kurt didn't mention how it seemed Mark was perfectly capable of sharing his lunch. It wasn't exactly the same.

"What about you? Anyone you're interested in?" Mark asked as he dug around again in his seemingly bottomless bag. He pulled out an orange and began peeling and segmenting it.

Kurt shrugged. It's not that he didn't think about others in that way. It was just that he couldn't act on any desire, so why bother. Besides, there was no one in particular that really crossed his mind. Going out with Amanda had been more for the novelty of the experience, but ultimately their relationship was shallow and had immediately ended when she had moved. If he really thought about it, he wouldn't mind being with someone who knew his true self and was just easy and fun to be around.

"No one at all? Girl?" Mark paused. "Guy?"

"Not really."

"Do you care?"

"Wanna be more specific?"

Mark mumbled around an orange slice, "If it's a girl or a guy?"

Kurt hesitated a second. He didn't think that Mark would care, but it wasn't something he'd come out and really announced. To anyone. But if Mark was willing to ask so casually… he might as well go for it. "I guess guys." Kurt blushed, self-conscious of his declaration, but Mark didn't even blink.

His embarrassment faded away, replaced by an ebullient feeling. He had already come to the realization that he preferred guys. Of course this was after some reflection, web browsing, and repeated viewings of _Captain Blood. _There was just something about Errol Flynn. But it was nice to have someone else know and accept without censure.

"What about…." Mark started scanning the cafeteria, as if somehow he could magically find someone that Kurt would be interested in. "Huh, that's strange."

"What?" Kurt followed Mark's gaze to his right, trying to spot anything peculiar.

"Lance is staring over here."

It took Kurt a second to find Lance in the crowd, but soon spied him sitting at the end of a table, and Mark was right. His stare bore through anyone that passed his line of sight, straight over to Kurt and Mark. As soon as Kurt caught Lance's eye, Lance began to mouth something.

"What's he saying? Tree?" Mark asked. "He could just come over here and say it to our face instead of all this furtive crap."

Kurt didn't answer Mark, knowing exactly what Lance was mouthing. Trieg. Kurt looked away and down at the mostly finished sandwich. It'd been plaguing him all day about how he'd promised Lance he'd talk to Trieg. He just hadn't gotten around to it yet. P.E. was busy and then he had to rush to his next class, and in the morning he was already late enough due to his stupid inducer acting up again. Sighing, he knew he was just avoiding the task. He should just get it out of the way now before tomorrow's gymnastics practice.

Standing up, Kurt picked up his trash. "Hey, I gotta go do something real quick. I should be back before the end of lunch."

Mark looked curiously from him and then over to Lance. Luckily, he didn't pry. "Ok. I'll be here."

Kurt felt like he was walking the last mile to his execution. He was nervous how the conversation would play out, unsure of how Trieg would react. As he passed by Lance and the rest of the Brotherhood, he heard Pietro mock loudly, "Here comes the freak."

Lance didn't speak up, and avoided his glance as he walked by. Slightly hurt, but knowing he shouldn't have expected any different, Kurt continued out of the cafeteria. He figured he'd first check the most obvious location, the teacher's lounge. As he walked down the almost empty hallways, he deliberated in his head whether he should knock on the door or just wait for a teacher to come out.

Misfortune, though, seemed to be smiling upon him today. Just as he was approaching the lounge, Trieg exited. Now he couldn't even make up some excuse about not finding him.

Spotting him immediately, Trieg grinned. "Kurt. Didn't expect to run into you out here. What can I do you for?"

Kurt desperately wanted to say nothing, but he'd promised Lance to at least try. Besides, maybe Lance's tactic could have some benefit to it. "Actually, I wanted to talk with you."

"Oh? What about?"

"Um." Kurt looked nervously around. Even though most of the students were occupied in classes or the lunchroom, he didn't really want to have this conversation out in the hallway.

Seeing his hesitation, Trieg kindly smiled. "Come with me. I know for a fact that Ms. Applegate is taking her lunch right now. Her classroom should be empty."

Trieg led Kurt just a ways down the hall to Ms. Applegate's classroom, and after unlocking the room, held open the door for Kurt.

Not seeing much of a choice, Kurt entered and walked down the middle of a row of desks to put some space between him and Trieg.

After closing and locking the door behind him, Trieg closed the gap the Kurt had tried to create. He stood right next to Kurt and gestured towards one of the desks.

"Take a seat."

"No, I'm fine." Kurt backed up a step, but Trieg followed him.

"I insist, sit down." Trieg put his hands on Kurt's shoulders and practically shoved him into a desk chair.

Feeling like he'd already lost control of the conversation, if he ever had it in the first place, Kurt's apprehension turned into outright anxiety. This was a bad idea. He felt trapped, backed up against the metal bar that connected the seat to the desk.

Trieg towered over Kurt, his muscular form intimidating and daunting. Kurt desperately wished he had something to occupy his hands with.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

"I.…" Kurt started. He looked down at his hands in front of him. He didn't even know how to begin.

Trieg knelt down beside him and placed his hand on Kurt's knee. "It's ok. You can tell me anything. I won't judge."

Kurt jerked his knee away and watched as Trieg's expression changed to confusion. Feeling emboldened, Kurt gathered up his courage to explain his feelings. "I don't like it when you do that." He paused a second, his eyes automatically reading one of the trite posters hanging from the wall. "You Can Do It!" it read in primary yellow. Kurt, for once, decided to take its advice. He couldn't stop there. He needed to say exactly what he meant. "I don't like it when you touch me."

The confusion plaguing Trieg's face quickly transformed into a fierce scowl. Kurt felt his already racing heart quicken to an unfathomable pace. With the bar blocking his way, he was cornered with no escape.

"Didn't I tell you to listen to me? Remember in my office?" Trieg practically growled out.

"_Ja, _I know but it just doesn't seem right…" Kurt tried to plead, to allay Trieg's anger, but his petition fell on deaf ears.

"You aren't listening to me again." Trieg's hand shot out and roughly grabbed Kurt by his arm. Trieg's grasp was tight and painful, and Kurt had no room to squirm out of the hold. He toyed with whether to teleport in his mind, but considered that only as a last resort in the most exigent circumstances. Even though Trieg was manhandling him, the situation didn't yet warrant revealing his powers.

"Now I want you to listen closely to me." Trieg replaced his hand on Kurt's knee. "_I _am in charge. You do what _I _say. You've already let me touch you here," He moved his hand higher up on Kurt's leg, "and here." Trieg moved his hand again to place it on Kurt's crotch. "If you back out now, then you're just a big, fucking tease. You let me go this far. Anything else that happens, you know you want it too."

He slid his hands under the bottom of Kurt's shirt and began to unbutton his pants. Both arms now free, Kurt pushed against him hard, almost causing Trieg to fall backwards, but he didn't have quite enough leverage from his seated position. Still, it forced Trieg to remove his hands to catch himself. Taking advantage of Trieg's imbalance, Kurt sprung up from the desk, but Trieg quickly recovered.

This time, no pretense of gentleness was used. Catching Kurt by his shoulders, Trieg brutally thrust him back into the desk, causing it to scoot across the floor.

At the moment, the sound of a key scraping against the door averted any more aggression from Trieg.

Trieg stepped back just as Ms. Applegate walked through the door. She walked over to her desk and dropped her lunchbox before noticing she had company.

"Oh! I didn't notice you in here. Am I interrupting anything?"

Trieg smiled kindly. "Of course not. I was just wrapping up my conversation with Kurt. Just needed somewhere private to talk."

"Is there… anything wrong?" Ms. Applegate was studying Kurt now. Realizing he must be showing his distress, Kurt did his best to wipe any emotion from his face.

"Nothing at all." Trieg held out a hand for Kurt to use to get up, but Kurt just ignored it and stood up on his own. A dark shadow fluttered across Trieg's face before he turned back around to Ms. Applegate.

Quickly hurrying past Trieg and Ms. Applegate, Kurt made a beeline for the door, ready to get the hell out of the classroom.

When he reached to open the door, Trieg's voice stopped him for just a second. "Remember what I said. I'd suggest you to take my advice."

In response, Kurt just let the door close with a click.

Kurt flopped on his bed, face down, ready for this day to end. His terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. He pulled a pillow over his head, blocking out the moonlight that filtered through his French doors. The darkness didn't help bar his thoughts from running amok in his brain.

Right from the beginning of the day, he should've just stayed in bed. First, his inducer had shorted out on him just as he was about to leave for school. It seemed that the inducer with the bad battery actually had an internal miswiring. So, he wasted his morning searching for his sole working inducer. Of course, it was in the last place he looked - buried under the covers he'd tossed off his bed. Maybe it does pay off to make your bed in the morning.

All in which made him tardy for school.

Then the conversation with Trieg at lunch had been a disaster. Not only was the situation totally out of his control, if Ms. Applegate hadn't have entered, he didn't know what Trieg would've done. Not wanting to relive that moment, he forced his thoughts away. As if somehow not thinking about it made it not real.

And then the topping on the cake. For the first time since last school year, the X-men and the Brotherhood had a run-in. And of course, Lance was there. For the most part, Kurt had avoided engaging with him. He didn't think he could go on the offensive against him, and he really didn't want to give Lance the opportunity to attack him. Luckily, he never had to find out as Lance must've thought similarly and used his powers away from Kurt. Still, Kurt wound up having to teleport some bystanders that were about to be crushed by a falling sign jostled loose by one of Lance's quakes. The fact of the matter was they were on opposing sides. But it was more than just that. Lance seemed apathetic or at least unaware of his actions harming innocents. If Lance had attacked him or someone else involved in the fight, that would be one thing. But people who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time…. Was that someone he really wanted to be friends with?

What if Lance had hurt them? Or even one of his teammates? Where would that leave them? He didn't know if he could so readily forgive Lance if Rogue or Scott had been gravely wounded by him. He bet that Lance felt the same for him. And it's not like he could separate Avalanche from Lance. They were code names, nothing more.

And this was something important to him. He liked protecting others. Not only did it make him feel good, it was the right thing to do. Lance was standing in complete opposition of that.

It was so confusing and stressful to think about. He did want to maintain his friendship with Lance but was it possible? He couldn't think of any good answers.

Maybe if he went to sleep, the answer would come to him. Or at least give him respite from his rotten day. Kurt could only hope that his dreams would somehow be a panacea that would erase all his problems.

Unfortunately, sleep was not the miraculous cure-all that Kurt wished for. Instead, gymnastics practice loomed all day in his mind. Made only worse when Ms. Applegate cornered him to tell him he could talk to her any time. It was nice to know a teacher cared, but Lance already knew, well sort of knew, about Trieg. He didn't need a teacher suspecting now too.

He almost thought of just skipping gymnastic practice, but he wanted to get things sorted with Lance. …But then again, he also didn't want to see him either. He may not have made up his mind about Lance, but at least he was certain he didn't want to see Trieg. His stomach seemed to tie itself in knots just thinking about him. Still, there was only 2 weeks left of gymnastics and then one last, final tournament. He could make it through.

Surprisingly, Trieg had been absent all practice, except the very beginning, and even then, he hadn't approached Kurt. Otherwise, Trieg had gone once to the locker rooms and then spent the rest of the time in his office. Not having to deal with the coach put Kurt more at ease, but he could feel a subtle tension between him and Lance. It wasn't on purpose, but he didn't talk to Lance the whole practice. They both just happened to always be working on different apparatuses. He really didn't want things to get all weird between them again, but he was having a hard time reconciling their friendship with their adversarial teams.

Feeling disappointed, Kurt headed back to the locker room with the others to get ready to go home. Kurt spied his water bottle creating a wet ring on the bench in front of his locker. He felt idiotic. He could've sworn he bought it out with him to practice and had spent a good chunk of time looking for it. Feeling like he was dying of thirst, Kurt took a few minutes just to rehydrate. After gulping down half the bottle, Kurt sat down on the bench, facing his locker. He wanted to approach Lance, but didn't know how to go about it. He sat there a minute, taking a few more sips of water; but before he could stand up to change, Lance came over and sat down heavily next to him, facing the aisle.

In a hushed voice so the other team members wouldn't overhear, Lance said, "I don't want you to give me the silent treatment again because of yesterday."

"I'm not," Kurt protested.

"Yeah, you are." Lance's voice rose in volume for a second before continuing in a lower tone. "You know, I made sure not to attack you."

"I know, but –" Kurt cut himself off as Mark came over to them.

"Sorry I missed you guys this weekend," Mark said as a greeting. "Lance, you'll have to join us at lunch so we can catch up."

"Sounds good," Kurt replied, wanting to wave Mark off without being rude so he and Lance could finish their conversation.

"Yeah, lunch," Lance agreed.

"Cool. Catch you guys tomorrow, then." Mark slung his bag over his shoulder and headed off, leaving just Jose left in the locker room.

Kurt waited impatiently for him to pack up his stuff, toying with his water bottle before placing it beside him. Finally, Jose bid them goodnight, leaving just them two of them alone again.

"But what?" Lance asked. He had his arms crossed, as if wary of Kurt's reply.

"Well, you almost killed an old couple."

"You saved them, didn't you? So why should it matter?"

"What if I hadn't?"

Lance stood up and began pacing. "Well, then…" He swiftly turned towards Kurt, gesturing in belligerence. "You just don't get it. You just don't like that I'm with the Brotherhood."

Kurt stood up too, the bench creating a barrier between them. "That's cause all the Brotherhood stands for is superiority at the expense of innocent people." Why couldn't Lance see just how wrong the Brotherhood was?

"More like we stand for our right to exist. If others get in our way, then that's their fault."

"That's not fair. People aren't even _aware _we exist."

"And what. You think that'd make a difference? You think anyone here would accept you as you really are?"

Kurt leaned back against his locker, feeling a slight wave of dizziness, but passed it off as not having any water until after practice. "Considering you don't even."

"What does that mean?" Lance's tone was indignant. Any hopes Kurt had of having a civil conversation had long vanished.

"It's not like you're actually going to sit with Mark and me at lunch tomorrow. You couldn't stand being seen with me where others might see."

"Pietro and them wouldn't understand if we started hanging out together suddenly."

"So? You're just ashamed that-" Kurt paused in what he was saying, suddenly feeling the locker room start to tilt. Maybe he just needed to sit down for a second.

"Fucking Christ, stop putting words into my mouth. I'm not ashamed. They'd probably start picking fights with you and probably me too."

Kurt rested his head against his hand, trying to make his vertigo pass. "I thought you were trying to be better. Like you said at the park."

Lance's eyes grew wild with anger. "Are you kidding me? That's so fucking low. I'm entitled to my own opinions, and…"

Kurt regretted saying that, but felt it hard to concentrate on the conversation. He let whatever Lance yell rush pass him, hoping that Lance would eventually run out of steam. There was a pause, and Kurt realized he was awaiting a response from him. Kurt had no idea what Lance had said and so just shrugged.

"Fine, whatever. I can see you care so much about this." In a huff, Lance turned around and left, not even grabbing his bag resting by his locker.

Kurt sat on the bench, feeling sick with regret on how the conversation ended, as well as overwhelmed by a rising dizziness.

Feeling a weight settle down next to him, Kurt peeked from his hand, hoping to see Lance but his stomach about dropped out when he spotted Trieg.

"Heard you and Alvers arguing. Everything ok?"

Kurt nodded as he stood up away from Trieg. That was a mistake. The locker room spun around him, and Kurt ended up leaning onto his locker shelf for support.

Trieg sighed. "I'm tired of this game." He stood up behind Kurt, reaching for his waist, but despite his wooziness, Kurt was not going to let Trieg touch him again. He tried elbowing Trieg, but his thrust came out weak. Something was really wrong with him.

Angered by Kurt's inept defense, Trieg growled, "Why won't you do as I say?" He roughly pulled Kurt away from his locker and back against his chest.

"Let me tell you exactly what I'm going to do," Trieg said as he backed them up to the bench. Forcing Kurt down onto the bench, Trieg sat astride behind him. "I'm going to take my huge cock and it's gonna be dripping with cum." Trieg drew one of Kurt's leg over the bench, so that he sat squarely between Trieg's legs. The clattering of his water bottle being knocked off the bench and rolling on the floor seemed deafening loud only to be replaced by Trieg's heavy breathing in his ear.

Pressed so close to Trieg, he could feel Trieg's threat jutting into his back.

"Then you'll lick it up like a fucking dog on your knees. My cum will be on your lips." Trieg stroked his thumb over Kurt's lips. "In your fucking mouth, and you'll swallow it like candy." He dipped his finger into Kurt's mouth before rubbing it back over his lips again. "Then I'm going to take some lube and make you rub my cock. Fucking up and down like a goddamn whore."

As if to demonstrate, Trieg started to dip his hand underneath Kurt's pants.

Kurt didn't care anymore if Trieg found out about his ability. He couldn't let Trieg do this. But instead of the familiar pull of teleportation, Kurt almost blacked out. Black spots filled his vision before fading away. Panic set in. He couldn't escape. He tried to force Trieg's hands away, but it was like an infant battling a tiger. He tried teleporting again, but this time he was completely enervated. He would've tipped forward if not for Trieg holding him up. Not willing to risk passing out, he didn't attempt a third port.

By now, Trieg was aware something was different about Kurt. He had stopped his hand's downward journey. "What is this?" Trieg began feeling under Kurt's shirt, running his hands slowly up and down his chest, as if both exploring and caressing at once.

Suddenly, Trieg hauled Kurt up and then threw him on his back onto the floor between the two sets of benches lining the lockers. Immediately, Kurt tried to back away, but he couldn't move fast enough. Before Kurt could turn around to get up, Trieg had forced him back over and straddled down on top of him. Kurt let out a sob half in protest and half in fear, but Trieg ignored him. Wasting no time, he began to lift Kurt's shirts up.

"It feels like… fur? But…" Trieg started to say.

Kurt tried to fight back but all of his energy felt sapped – his movements feeble and slow.

After marveling a bit longer, Trieg smiled. "It's strange but soft. I don't understand how it's possible, but I think I like it." His hands grew aggressive, pausing places, dipping slightly beneath his pants.

"Stop, please." Kurt's protest came out weak. He felt like he could barely lift his arms or tail, like a butterfly pinned in a case.

For a second, Trieg paused to muse at Kurt's pathetic struggling. "Shh." He brushed away some of Kurt's hair from his face. "I told you to listen to me but you wouldn't." Forcing Kurt to sit up slightly, he started lifting Kurt's shirts up completely now. "So I had to make you listen. Make it so that you'd be ready." His undershirt was tight and felt suffocating as it passed over his head. "You see how much you want this? I'm just helping you. Letting you get what you want. It's going to be a gift, when I put my cock in you and fuck you so hard. "

By now, his shirts had become entangled on his wrists. Trieg pulled roughly but the undershirt had caught up against Kurt's inducer. After one forceful tug, his ersatz image faded away, the switch toggled by his bunched shirt.

Trieg stopped and stared. He shoved Kurt's hands, still entangled in his shirt, above his head.

Spread out beneath Trieg, Kurt found it difficult to breath. The floor felt like it was swaying back and forth beneath him and he couldn't stop Trieg from talking, from touching him, from staring. He couldn't even tear his hands free from the makeshift restraint of his shirts. He felt helpless and exposed. His stomach roiled in fear.

Trieg touched his face, turning it from side to side before letting his hands trail down his body. Kurt felt like a slab of meat being inspected and examined.

"_B-bitte._" He tried again, desperate.

Finally, Trieg exhaled out. "I knew you were different. Special. But this…" He ran a finger over one of Kurt's ears to the pointed tip. "And the fur. I knew I felt it. I just never thought…"

Kurt had desperately wanted Trieg to be revolted, but instead he could feel a bulge against his thigh.

"I wonder..." Trieg ground his erection against him while continuing to run his hands across his chest, up his arms before returning to caress his face. With Trieg stroking his face, Kurt could see the lust in his eyes. Eyes that bored into him as the rest of the room spun around like a merry-go-round. Kurt tried to turn away from his stare, but Trieg forcefully grabbed his hair so tightly he couldn't move his head away. Bending down, Trieg kissed Kurt roughly. His other hand grabbed Kurt's jaw, forcing his mouth open slightly so that he could dip his tongue inside. Kurt tried to bite down but Trieg's grip was like a vice. He could practically feel hairs being ripped from his head while the other hand was sure to leave a strange set of bruises along his jawline. As he began to withdraw, Trieg bit down on Kurt's lip, drawing blood as if to mark him.

Trieg sat back and watched the blood well up on Kurt's lip. He grinded himself against Kurt again while leaning down to lick the blood off Kurt's lip. He broke off continuing on his thought from before. "I wonder just how much of you is covered in fur. Is it _everywhere_?"

With that, Trieg began to push Kurt's pants down.

A feeling of hopelessness encroached on Kurt. His hands trapped, deprived of teleportation, the only thing Kurt could do was beg Trieg to stop. But any plea was in vain.

Lance really didn't want to go back to the locker room, but he had stupidly forgotten his bag. He could only hope that Kurt wasn't there anymore. He didn't want to repeat that conversation, especially now that he was so fucking furious. Angry at himself for letting himself get so angry and angry at Kurt for not just accepting that he was with the Brotherhood. How come he got to be so high and mighty? Lance wanted to punch something. And he was desperately trying to bury that feeling of disappointment. If they couldn't get over this, then where would that put their friendship? Or more? Lance scoffed at himself. There was no more. That was only in his mind and there it would stay.

Any grumblings to himself were instantly cut off as soon as he opened the door to the locker room. The scene that greeted him left him staring in shock. Trieg was straddling Kurt, an uninducered Kurt. No, not just straddling but grinding himself against him before licking his lip. Lance was frozen to his spot. It was surreal, like a horrible nightmare displayed before him.

Finally, Trieg's voice broke the spell over Lance. He felt ashamed that he had had the same question as Trieg, but he couldn't worry about that now.

Lance clenched his fists. His anger, already at the surface, sprung lose. He stepped into the locker room, uncontrolled tremors vibrating out. "Get off of him. _Now_."

Trieg looked up in surprise, but remained on top of Kurt. "Alvers. I suggest you leave."

Furious that Trieg seemed unconcerned and hadn't even removed his hands from Kurt's pants, Lance didn't hold back his wrath. The whole room started to shake. A few lockers fell over, making a loud clang that reverberated throughout the room.

Finally, a shocked expression spreading over his face, Trieg stood up off of Kurt.

"Yeah, that's me, you fucking asshole. You better get the fuck out of here before I open a goddamn hole underneath you."

Trieg hesitated and looked down at his prey who was so vulnerable and ready for him.

Not liking the lascivious look Trieg gave Kurt, Lance released another tremor. "Fucking _now_!"

Fully realizing the danger Lance posed, Trieg bolted out of the room. Lance wanted desperately to follow him and beat the shit out of him, but he restrained himself, knowing that Kurt needed him.

Trying not to shake in anger, Lance knelt down next to Kurt. He didn't understand why Kurt remained lying there, but decided to help him sit up. He leaned Kurt's upper body against one of the benches before standing up.

Why Kurt wasn't doing anything? Why did he let Trieg just use him? His simmering fury broke free again. He began pacing around the locker room, gesticulating wildly. "Fucking Christ. Why the fuck didn't you teleport out? Are you fucking stupid? This isn't something to fucking –" Lance stopped mid-rant, noticing that Kurt seemed to be shaking while making small struggles to free his hands from his shirts.

"Fuck," Lance mumbled under his breath before going over to help. Now was not the time for him to explode. It was just first their argument and then this. He needed to calm himself down. Taking deep breaths, he pulled Kurt's hands free, letting the intertwined shirts drop to the floor. "Ok, right. Sorry. I'm calming down. Are _you_ okay?"

Kurt shook his head, hair curtaining off his face.

"Right, stupid question. Let's get you off the floor." Lance struggled to settle Kurt on to the bench. It was like he was maneuvering a limp ragdoll. After a few grunts, Lance settled them both on the bench in front of Kurt's locker. Kurt practically leaned against him completely, as if he couldn't sit up on his own.

Finally getting a look at Kurt's face, Lance saw that his eyes were all glassy and unfocused. "What's wrong with you?"

He waited a second as Kurt gathered his thoughts.

His voice came out slightly slurred and accent thick. "_Ich denke_…" Kurt paused to refocus his thoughts. "I think Trieg drugged me."

"What? How?"

"My_ wasserflasche._"

It took Lance a second to figure out what Kurt meant but _wasser _wasn't that hard to translate. He saw the innocuous bottle lying flat on its side, just peeking out from under the bench.

The small amount of water left swished as Lance picked it up. The contents looked normal but Lance remembered Kurt downing it just after practice. It was the only explanation. Putting it down beside him, Lance's mind scrambled to come up with a plan of action.

Kurt's shaking had barely subsided. Unsure, Lance hesitatingly put his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Lance wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for, but he didn't know what else to say.

Kurt shook his head in response. Lance didn't know if he was trying to clear his thoughts or wave off Lance's apology. "Just want to go home."

"Yeah. Let me get my stuff." Lance slowly stood up, helping Kurt to rest his hands against the bench to stay upright.

He quickly retrieved his bag, wanting to get out of there in case Trieg changed his mind. He stuffed Kurt's water bottle into his bag, figuring that it might be of use to determine what Trieg had exactly drugged Kurt with.

Looking over at Kurt, observing his half-clothed state and quivering form, Lance felt sick. What would have happened if he hadn't come in? Trying not to think of what could've been, Lance dug around in his backpack for his cellphone. He paused, realizing how idiotic it would be to call a Brotherhood member. Kurt didn't need that right now.

Instead, Lance walked over to Kurt's locker, looking for his phone.

"Hey, I'm going to use your cellphone to call us a ride. What's your password?" Lance asked as he finally found it hidden under a shirt.

Not receiving a response, Lance turned towards Kurt. He sat down next to him again, and pushed him up a bit to grab his attention. "Hey. You gotta focus, ok. I need-" Lance pushed down on the power button and didn't receive a response. Dead. Fucking Murphy's Law.

"_Was_?"

"Nothing. We gotta walk. Hang on." Lance stood up to retrieve Kurt's shirt from his locker and then threw his dead cellphone and the rest of his stuff in his bag. "Let's put this on you." After a bit of a struggle – it's not easy putting a shirt on someone else – Lance succeeded. "Can you turn on your inducer? It's going to be a bit of a walk."

Kurt nodded and fumbled a bit before pushing the correct button.

Now looking like two normal teens, Lance grabbed their bags before helping Kurt up. It was going to be a long trek to the mansion.

XXXXXX

I believe I've read somewhere that PB&J sandwiches in Germany (and possibly other countries) is seen as strange, foreign and gross. They are all wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the long wait. I agonized over this chapter - writing and revising it to make it somewhat work. Conversations like this are just tough to write. **

**Also, thank you so much for those who reviewed! It really brightened my days when I received one! I'm glad to know there are some people out there enjoying it. :)**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Chapter 8**

The setting sun glinted off of the few remaining cars in the parking lot as Lance and Kurt stumbled towards the tree-lined sidewalk. Kurt could barely keep himself upright, let alone walk on his own. One of his arms was thrown over Lance's shoulder while his weight was support by Lance's arm entwined about his waist. His head was bent forward, as if even that was too much effort to lift. A light breeze ruffled through Lance's hair and Kurt's fur, stirring the leaves across their feet as they finally lurched onto the sidewalk.

As they staggered along, the silence seemed overwhelming, broken only by the intermittent crunching of dry leaves. Lance didn't know what he could say. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind but none he could grasp and form into words. Besides, he doubt Kurt would absorb any platitudes he could think of. With each step, Kurt was resting more and more of his weight on Lance. His body was drooping forward as if a weight was tied around his neck. Lance was sure that to any passing cars, they looked like a pair of drunken teens weaving along the path.

He couldn't shake the image of Trieg lying on Kurt, intimately licking his lip. His breath quickened as he replayed it on loop in his head. What had transpired before? What about before even today? Had Kurt lied about what Trieg had done? Could Lance have –

His endless barrage of unanswerable questions was interrupted as Kurt tripped over a treacherous section of the sidewalk. Somehow, Lance managed to maintain his balance and kept them both from a harsh landing. Looking back, Lance saw that a tree root had entrenched itself under the sidewalk, causing the concrete to buckle.

"You okay?"

After a beat, Lance received a slight nod and for a few more steps, they wobbled along.

Now was not the time for him to worry about what had been. He just needed to make sure he got Kurt home. He didn't know how Professor Xavier could help, but Lance was at a loss. Besides, it's not like he could take on a teacher at the school. Something needed to happen and if Lance had to turn to the X-men to protect his friend, then so be it.

But this wasn't working. Judging by the sliver of red on the horizon, it had nearly been fifteen minutes since they left the school and they had barely made any headway. Half afraid that they would be stopped by some busybody who suspected them of imbibing, Lance looked for a place he could rest for a spell.

Spotting a section of sidewalk where a few brown leaves clung tenaciously to a group of trees, Lance swerved them in that direction. He led them behind a particularly thick trunk so they could be blocked from any prying eyes. As Lance slowly let go, Kurt practically melted to the ground. Knees splayed under him, he rested most of his weight on his hands as he leaned forward. Lance knelt down beside him on to the carpet of leaves covering the grass. He hesitated a second before placing a reassuring hand on Kurt's shoulder to give physical and mental support.

"Hey, how're you holding up?"

After a few seconds, Lance was almost sure that Kurt hadn't heard him or was too far gone, until he received a quivering, unintelligible reply. Lance couldn't tell if what Kurt said was heavily accented English or in German. Perhaps the drug had affected Kurt so much that he was having difficulty talking in his non-native language.

"Um, was that English or German?" Lance asked.

"I don't want to go." Kurt began, his accent still thick but he was trying his best to enunciate clearly enough for Lance to understand.

"Go?"

"To the mansion." Kurt's head was still hanging down, so Lance couldn't tell what expression crossed his face.

"But, you said you wanted to go home, right? And they can help and…" Lance trailed off as Kurt started speaking.

"Then they'll know," he said in a bare whisper.

Lance couldn't stand it anymore. He reached forward to gently push back Kurt's hair and tilt his head so he could see his eyes. He could see fear mixed in with despair as barely held back tears gathered in his eyes.

"Whatever it is you're thinking, you need to stop. It'll be ok. They'll help out. It's what you guys do."

"I didn't… I didn't want Trieg to t-touch me." By now, Kurt was holding on to Lance like a lifeline, his hands weakly grasping Lance's shoulders.

Lance's heart constricted at the desperation so blatantly displayed on Kurt's face. The dried blood still smeared across his lips remained a testament to the violence that Trieg had employed.

Reaching out, he took Kurt's shoulders in a reassuring hold. "I know." Lance didn't receive any response to that. Only the noise of the traffic muffled by the trees breached the silence. He let Kurt recompose himself, familiar with how embarrassing it was to be so vulnerable in front of someone, even if it was a friend. After a minute or two, knowing they couldn't stay crouched there forever, Lance said, "I don't think we can get much further walking like this."

"It's hard to… _konzentrieren. Gott._ Everything's still spinning." Kurt's hands had fallen from Lance's shoulders and were once again supporting his weight as he leaned heavily against them.

"Then that decides it. I'm going to carry you. No protesting," Lance commanded as he combined both of their bags into one that he could sling over his back. Standing up first, Lance helped Kurt up to his feet. Kurt leaned into his chest, still unable to remain upright on his own. Under different circumstances, Lance would've been excited by their close proximity. However, the only emotions he could feel were a deep despondency and barely capped rage at Trieg.

Bending down, Lance gathered Kurt up so that he was holding him bridal style.

"Better?"

Kurt rested his head against Lance's chest before shaking his head in response to Lance's question.

"What the hell did Trieg give you?" Lance angrily muttered to himself. He brought them back to the sidewalk and headed on their way.

The sun had not lingered. For brief instances, Lance and Kurt were illuminated by passing cars' headlights before again being shadowed by the night. The closer they got to the mansion, the lighter traffic became until scarce cars were on the road. This was fine by Lance. It was a private moment, and he was doing his best to radiate out any comfort he could to Kurt.

It still took a good bit to reach the mansion even though their pace was faster now that Lance was carrying Kurt.

Lance had to battle to open the gate to the mansion, but seeing their destination looming out of the darkness was a relief. Outside of the wooden front doors, Lance put Kurt down so that he could have a hand free. Deprived of all strength, Kurt sunk to the ground.

Before Lance could even get a chance to knock, the door was thrown open, golden light from the front hallway streamed down upon them.

"Where is he?" Logan demanded as his stare pierced through Lance.

A bit startled, Lance recovered quickly. He didn't answer him, but instead helped Kurt up again. They staggered into the open door, forcing Logan to move aside.

Lance paused, unsure of where to go.

"In there," Logan pointed down the hallway to the living room where soft yellow emanated.

Their wavering walk almost caused them to trip over the clawed foot of a wooden entry table, but Lance was able to catch himself on the edge. He could hear Logan's growls of impatience and anger, but he didn't seem to be willing to help. He hoisted them back up, and not wanting to be subjected to Logan's judgment any longer, made the executive decision to just carry Kurt the rest of the way.

As expected, Professor Xavier awaited them in the living room. Ignoring him too, Lance walked across the plush rug to lay Kurt upon the mahogany leather couch. Lance had no idea how this impending conversation was going to go. All he really wanted to do was just sit by Kurt. Not deal with the inevitable yelling and blame dealing.

And sure enough, as soon as Logan entered, the diatribe started.

"What the hell were you two doing? Getting here so late. And why the hell were you and Kurt hanging out together? What, did you two decide to become drinking buddies? Getting drunk on a school night too."

"Logan, enough," Professor X said, but Logan wasn't finished yet.

"No, I don't think so, Chuck. Of Lance, I expected this. But of Kurt? What an irresponsible, bone-headed thing to do. And not just drunk, but black-out drunk… "

Logan continued on, but Lance had had enough. He was infuriated. This was not what Kurt or even himself needed right now. He watched as Kurt curled in on himself as if he could block out Logan's rant.

"He's not drunk, you fucking idiot! He's drugged." That shut him up.

A shock spread through the room before Professor X spoke. "What do you mean, drugged? Please explain."

At first, Lance wanted to refuse just to be obstinate, but he knew that would be childish and unhelpful. Still, he hesitated. He looked towards the open archway that led to the grand hallway and staircase. He really didn't want any of the others to listen in.

"I assure you, no one else will be intruding upon this conversation. Please speak freely."

Figuring that the Professor would at least respect Kurt enough to guarantee privacy, Lance recounted what he had walked in on in the locker room. There wasn't much to tell as he only caught the end of the incident, but nevertheless, it was draining to have to relive those tense moments again. As he finished, he sank into a soft armchair across from Logan whose fists were strained with contained rage.

A silence permeated the room.

Lance felt like he was about to burst from the tension before the Professor said, "Thank you, for helping Kurt tonight. I know you two have your differences, but tonight you really showed a true strength of character."

"We don't anymore." Receiving a questioning look from Professor X, Lance continued. "We don't have differences. Well, we do I guess. Kinda big ones, but it doesn't matter. We're friends." It was strange, saying those words out loud, but Lance wasn't going to back down.

"Oh."

Growing defensive, Lance's voice rose. "Yeah, oh. And you can't do anything about it."

The Professor held up a hand to stave off Lance's anger. "That wasn't my intent. It was merely surprising as I hadn't heard Kurt mention this, but then again neither have I heard anything about Coach Trieg. He can be very private."

"Yeah. He never mentioned anything to me either. But…" Lance trailed off, thinking of all the times he dismissed Trieg's closeness or the times when Kurt had seemed distressed after one of his "conversations" with Trieg.

"Do you know how long this has been going on?"

Lance shook his head. "I dunno. But there's been moments. Like once I caught Trieg really close to Kurt in the locker room. Kurt said that Trieg had been kinda touchy but never like that. That was just last Friday. God, I told him to go talk to Trieg. That he could sort it out that way. How fucking naive."

"You didn't know. None of us know to what extent this has been happening."

"Why didn't he say anything?" Logan finally chimed in. Lance had thought he had shut down, his brain too primal to deal with something so complicated.

Still, Lance had been asking himself that same question. It was a horrible thought, but somehow knowing that Kurt hadn't said anything to Professor X or the others made him feel pleased.

"If I hadn't forgotten my bag…" Lance thought out loud.

"No more what ifs and we'll deal with the whys later. All I'm concerned with is the now." With that the Professor wheeled over to Kurt. "Kurt, can you please look at me?" He requested.

After a second, Kurt slowly turned over to face the Professor. Gently, the Professor took Kurt's hand and removed his inducer. The ersatz image faded away, revealing his true self. Not voicing his opinion, Lance was silently glad that the Professor had taken it off. Sometimes it felt like Kurt used it to hide.

The watch clunked as it was set on the side table.

"I assume you've been listening."

"_Ja_," came the tired response.

"How are you feeling?"

This time the Professor only received squeezed eyes and a slight shake of a head.

"Perhaps I should have Hank come and examine you. How long has it been since he ingested the drug?"

It took Lance a second to realize the Professor was addressing him. Looking towards the clock on the mantle, Lance briefly calculated in his head. "Probably at least 2 hours. It was kinda a long walk here."

"I imagine."

"Two hours. How long will it take for it to run through his system?" Logan asked, now coming to stand behind Professor X. Though his stance was tense, his softened tone reflected his concern for his student.

"I'm unsure. I'll have Hank up here briefly."

The Professor closed his eyes, blocking out the rest of the room. Lance assumed the Professor was contacting Dr. McCoy via telepathy.

"There's blood on his lips," Logan observed as he turned, what seemed to Lance, an accusing stare towards him.

"All I saw was Trieg licking it from his lips when I walked in," Lance responded, arms crossed over his chest.

Logan's face darkened. "That little detail just slip your mind? How long did it really take for you to act?"

"And what does that mean?" Lance returned just as snidely.

"You heard me. You and Kurt never got along before and now suddenly you're his hero? I bet you stood there watching for a bit. Getting some vengeance kick…"

"Stop, _bitte_," Kurt pleaded, voice faint and unheeded. He had thrown a hand up to his head, as if somehow he could contain his rotating world. Everyone's voice was like a bombardment of ping pong balls, bouncing rapidly about his head. He just needed solitude and quiet, but even closing his eyes didn't help. In fact, it almost made it worse - like he was in a whirling vortex of blackness. With his eyes open, at least he could see the room and feel grounded. He tried to focus on the feel of his hand on his head. It didn't help.

The cacophony of the argument was reaching a crescendo when suddenly the Professor barked out, "Both of you. That's enough." The immediate silence was a blessing. Now that he had their attention, the Professor calmly tried to bring the tension of the room down. "I know emotions are high right now, but it's better if we did our best to remain calm." He directed a meaningful glance from Logan and Lance, making sure he had their gazes before directing them to Kurt's pitiful form.

"Right. Sorry, kid," Logan grumbled out.

Lance didn't know if Logan was directing that to him or Kurt, so didn't say anything. He did, however, relax his stance.

"Now, Kurt. You'll have to do your best to be as forthcoming as possible with Hank. You can't hold back how you're feeling," the Professor said. After receiving no response, the Professor tried again. "Kurt?"

"…_Ja_, okay."

It didn't take long for a concerned Hank to join them. His face was awash with worry, but as soon as he knelt down beside Kurt, he regained his composure, ready to instill comfort to his patient.

After taking Kurt's pulse and shining a penlight into his glassy eyes, Hank asked a few questions directed towards Kurt and Lance. It was a bit of a struggle to get Kurt to answer clearly - his slurred accent obscuring his answers or with the need to stop a few times to refocus his attention.

Hank sank back onto his haunches before voicing his thoughts. "I'm unclear as to what drug was employed. If only I had a sample, then I'd be able to determine its effects. But I suppose I could draw some of Kurt's blood and -"

"Actually," Lance began as he bent down to pick up his and Kurt's bags, "there was still water left in Kurt's water bottle. I think that's what Trieg used." He rummaged around a bit before pulling out said navy blue water bottle.

"That is fortuitous," Hank said as he retrieved the bottle from Lance. "It will take awhile for me to examine it, though."

"How long do you think he'll be like this?" Logan asked as he gestured towards Kurt who had his eyes partly closed.

"With Kurt's faster metabolism, I believe the drug was able to act more rapidly and became more potent. It might have a longer effect than usual. Once I determine the exact drug used, I will relay more detailed information." Concern blatant on his face, Hank looked back at Kurt. "For now, perhaps it would be best if he slept it off as there doesn't seem to be any severe detrimental side effects."

"Sounds like the best course of action right now," the Professor said.

Lance couldn't help but agree. Kurt looked absolutely drained, and if Lance was in his position, all he'd want to do is curl up in his bed and shut out the rest of the world.

"I'll take him up to his room." Logan walked over to Kurt and easily picked him up off the couch. Kurt didn't protest but merely slid a boneless arm around Logan's neck.

"I'm sorry," Kurt mumbled into Logan's chest.

"It's no problem carrying you."

Kurt shook his head, frustrated that Logan had misunderstood. "Sorry about..." He trailed off, but this time Logan cottoned on.

"Don't apologize. What happened wasn't your fault." Logan barely prevented himself from growling that out, suppressing his anger at this Coach Trieg so as to not agitate Kurt. He exchanged worried looks with everyone else in the room.

"Thank you, Logan. Please stay with him until I finish down here. Then, I will monitor him as a precaution through the night," the Professor said.

Logan nodded and started making his way out of the living room, but a light tug on his shirt brought him to a halt. Looking down, he saw that Kurt was struggling to focus to relay something.

"Video. In the locker room."

"You're not making much sense, Elf."

"No, wait!" Lance interjected. He walked around the coffee table towards Logan. "The school put up some video cameras in the locker room to stop people from stealing shit. I bet it caught the whole thing."

The Professor leaned forward. "You said that Kurt's inducer was off when you walked in."

"Yeah."

"And that you used your powers."

"Yeah, what of it." Lance crossed his arms. Sure that the Professor was going to reprimand him.

"Then we must take all precautions. If Trieg is aware of the video…. We simply cannot let him have such leverage in his hands. Logan, I'm counting on you to retrieve it. The sooner, the better."

Logan sharply nodded his head before continuing up the stairs.

"I will head to my lab and see what I can determine," Hank said as he held aloft the water bottle.

Leaving just the Professor and Lance.

Lance shuffled his feet, feeling awkward.

"I want to thank you, Lance."

"Oh yeah?" Lance said sarcastically, still unsure of his reception by the X-men.

"Yes, I do. Without your intervention, tonight could've gone horribly different."

It was silly, but the Professor's genuine gratitude kinda made Lance feel like a hero. He liked it.

"There is always room at the mansion for one more." The Professor's gaze was sharp and piercing. He didn't mean just staying for the night.

"Thanks but no thanks." He may've helped Kurt and always would. He may, possibly, perhaps, most likely even have a crush on him, but after tonight, he was more convinced that the Brotherhood was right. Humanity was scum.

The Professor just nodded in response as he gestured towards the front door. "If you don't mind, I'll call for Ororo to come and give you a ride home."

Lance would've preferred to refuse but it was a long trek back. "Thanks," he mumbled. He was not looking forward to the awkward car ride.

QQQQQQQQQQQ

The mid-afternoon sun brought slight warmth on a rather chilly day. Lance kicked through the leaves covering the ground as he made his way through the tree-covered path to the park proper. He had ditched school early - skipping last period and gymnastics practice. He had been halfway to the X-mansion before he even realized where he was headed. But he couldn't just show up at the door unannounced. So, instead he had pulled off into the tiny, secluded park Kurt had introduced to him.

He sighed in relief as he saw that he had the park to himself. He made his way to one of the two picnic tables and climbed up to sit. With arms resting on knees, at first, Lance just stared, sorting his thoughts. He sat and watched a lone paper bag drift across the rest of the dried grass until it finally caught up on a lower branch of a tree.

Without thinking, he pulled out his cellphone but didn't unlock it. It remained clutched in his hand unused. He wanted to desperately text Kurt. To ask him how he was doing. He wanted to tell him how he almost slugged Trieg when he caught sight of him and had ended up skipping practice. And what about Mark? Should he tell him anything even? He hadn't sat with him at lunch, knowing Mark would ask about Kurt, and that there was no way Lance could've controlled his emotions to not reveal that something had happened.

Knowing he couldn't put all his thoughts in a text, he shoved his unused phone back in his pocket. Could he have done something different yesterday or even before then? He should've seen it. Should've made sure that Kurt wasn't skimping on the truth. How long had Trieg been even doing it and to what extent?

He fault nauseous each time he thought of it. The locker room scene flashed again in front of his eyes. He desperately wanted to see the video Logan had probably retrieved – to know everything that had happened before he'd walked in - but at the same time wanted to burn the evidence in a smoldering pile - preferably on top of Trieg's dick.

Lance's violent thoughts were interrupted as a group of college-aged guys waltzed into his park. They were holding a basketball and barely even spared him a glance as they started up their game. Annoyed, Lance threw them a few dirty looks, but they didn't seem to notice. Trying to block out the echoing, rhythmic sound as the basketball hit the concrete, he gazed up at Kurt's Frisbee still wedged in the tree.

Staring at the disc – its bright red blurring with the dark branches of the trees - his mind fell easily back into its rumination. On their walk home. That despair that had lingered on Kurt's face and his barely contained tears. What if even now he was in his bedroom, distraught and alone? He wanted to be there with him. To kiss his tears. Lance jerked back at that thought. Not only was he back to his stupid crush, it was a flight of extreme mushiness. Some ridiculous cliché that he'd seen in movies, but still… that desire to ease Kurt's pain was there. It wouldn't work like in the movies as some magical kiss that would vanquish all problems. Besides, he'd never do something so… so white knight. And he doubt Kurt would appreciate it much either. But still he wanted to, needed to do something.

He sighed to himself. How was it that once he realized he liked Kurt in that way that all his thoughts had to betray him, especially after he tried to bury them under 10 feet of denial. He really wanted to talk to someone about this but the only other one besides Kurt was Mark. What would Mark even say or think? Maybe he could help him get past this strange aberration. Get back to normality.

Any more of his thoughts were interrupted as a hand waved in front of his face.

"Yoo hoo, earth to strange kid sitting on the bench."

Lance looked up, disgruntled at being disturbed. "What?"

One of the college boys was standing in front of him, sweat glistening from his shaved head. "You play ball? We lost a member due to girlfriend duties."

Lance's first inclination was to refuse, but maybe it would be good to get a break from his thoughts. "Yeah, sure. Just make sure I'm on the winning team."

The boy chuckled. "You'll be on mine, so no problem there."

Lance spent the rest of the afternoon, playing the pickup game, his problems shunted to one side for the time being.

Kurt sat pensively on the floor with his legs curled up, arms hugged around his knees while leaning his back against his bed. The gauzy curtains fluttered in the slight breeze flowing in from the open French doors. He stared outside at the bare limbs of the giant Oak that stood guard over his room.

Or more like he stared straight past the majestic tree, wrapped up in his thoughts. Yesterday had been difficult to say the least. He had lain awake most of the night and half of the day, encumbered by the ceaseless movement of the room around him. Said sensation followed him into any small amount of sleep he did happen to catch. It was like being stuck on a teacup ride he couldn't get off. He remembered Logan, Professor X, or Hank checking in on him or having hushed conversations near the threshold to his room. But it wasn't until late afternoon that the fog lifted and relief came in the form of deep sleep. He must've slept for a long while after as it was morning light the next time he woke. For a moment, he had remained tucked under the covers, hoping that the recollection of that night would scatter like a fading nightmare. Instead, those memories bubbled up to the surface of his thoughts like acid.

Though he had no intention on going to school, he had gone through his morning routine, hoping the rote motions would help keep his thoughts at bay. The shower felt nice and so did getting into clean clothes; but otherwise, his mind remained turbulent.

And so he ended curled up on the floor, his damp hair most likely leaving a wet spot on his bedspread behind him.

Just knowing that Professor X and them knew…

And Lance…

His agonizing was interrupted by the shuffling of heavy footsteps and accompanying weighty sigh that belonged to Logan.

"Hey."

Kurt huddled deeper into himself, but responded with a small, "Hey." He was almost afraid of looking back to see Logan's expression.

There was a pause of uncomfortable silence before Logan spoke up again. "Breakfast?"

Kurt just shook his head. He was in no mood to eat.

Logan gave a noncommittal reply.

This time Kurt did risk a peek at Logan. He wasn't getting much idea into Logan's thoughts from his monotonous responses. He stood with his burly arms crossed, gaze focused out the doors. His expression stony. Logan must've sensed him looking as his eyes slid to meet his.

Kurt quickly looked away.

After a pause where Kurt was sure Logan's intense gaze was studying him, Logan finally said, "It's time the Professor and you and I have a talk."

Kurt knew the moment Logan walked in that this was inevitable. He squeezed his knees, dreading the conversation, but in the end just nodded reluctantly before standing up.

The walk downstairs to the Professor's office was long and just as full of awkward silence as Logan's visit to his room. The Professor was typing away at his keyboard upon their entry into the office. The wooden blinds were raised to let the morning light stream through and coat the room in rich warm browns. Kurt wanted to run over and close them, as if he could prevent the rest of the world from hearing the impending conversation.

"Please, take a seat. This will be but a moment," the Professor said as he looked up. A dim smile crossed his face in greeting before he returned to typing. Most likely a business email.

Feeling exposed standing, Kurt took Professor X's offer and curled up in one of the leatherback seats that faced his desk. Logan sat in the other, leaning back in the chair - his crossed arms belying his relaxed posture. For a few minutes, just the sound of the clacking of the keyboard filled the room until finally the Professor turned away from his computer.

"I'm sorry for the delay," the Professor said. "Kurt, how are you feeling?"

"Fine." Kurt's reply was automatic. Some habits were hard to break.

"So you feel no ill effects from the drug?" the Professor pressed.

"Like I finally stepped off an endless tilt-a-whirl, so that's a plus," Kurt tried to joke but his heart wasn't in it. "_Ja_, I'm ok."

"Hank finished examining the drug and said that there should be no other ill effects, but I want to confirm with you."

Kurt shook his head. "No, I'm really ok." Physically, it seemed he had recovered just fine now that the drug had passed through his system.

"Excellent," the Professor said as he rolled around to stop in front of Logan and Kurt. This conversation was more personal, he didn't want to seem barricaded behind his desk.

Kurt hugged his arms around his legs and looked away from him, anticipating the shift in tone.

The Professor's expression turned grave. "In full disclosure, Logan, Ororo, Hank and I watched the video file Logan was able to retrieve." Professor X took in the tensing of Kurt's shoulders and his guarded posture and knew he had made the right decision to have just him and Logan present. With all the teachers present, the conversation would end up feeling more like an interrogation, which was precisely the exact opposite he was hoping to achieve. But it was still difficult to know how to proceed. "I am truly sorry that something like this happened. It was difficult to watch but necessary to have complete knowledge of the situation so we can handle it appropriately."

Kurt felt a sickness spreading through him. Knowing that they had all seen what had happened. Knowing that his actions, or more like inactions, had led to this point. It was like his chest was being compressed.

"You know, this isn't your fault," Logan interrupted the impending silence.

Kurt slightly nodded his head. He saw the Professor exchange a look with Logan. They didn't believe him. He didn't even believe himself.

The Professor reaffirmed. "Logan is right. It is obvious from the video that you did resist him. Though, in those situations, please know you should absolutely use your powers to protect yourself. Your safety is my first concern."

"I did try. But I couldn't. I felt like I was going to pass out instead of teleporting."

"Hank did say the drug was very potent," Logan commented.

"It was awful. I couldn't…." Kurt trailed off, remembering how helpless he felt but not knowing how to, not wanting to put that into words. And then there were the times when he could have teleported away and didn't.…

The Professor waited, wanting to see if Kurt would continue, but Kurt could be particularly reticent, especially when it involved his own problems. When it was obvious that Kurt wasn't going to continue, the Professor decided to steer the conversation as delicately as he could.

"Lance mentioned that this was not the first instance. Could you explain what he meant?"

Kurt felt like a hard lump was caught in his throat. He bought his knees up in front of him before answering in a shaky voice. "Coach Trieg, he… before this happened, he would…." He paused for a second, trying to rein in his emotions, but it was like trying to catch water with a sieve. Everything – the memories, shame and embarrassment - was too close. "It wasn't as bad as what he did in the locker room. At first I thought it was just him being overly friendly or something. But then…." Kurt took a breath, trying to gather the courage. His fingers wrapped tightly around his arms. "…Other times… he touched me…." He finished in a bare whisper.

"Has he drugged you before then?" Logan's voice seemed painfully loud.

The question cut deep and was enough to make Kurt relinquish the meager hold he had on his emotions. His voice hitched as silent tears escaped. He hid his face in the crook of his elbow that was resting on his knees. "No, I… just let him. I didn't…I didn't stop him."

The Professor felt his heart clench. He regretted not inviting Ororo to this talk. Neither he nor Logan was demonstrative, but he couldn't just sit passively while Kurt suffered. Yet what could he say?

Kurt continued on, "He probably thought it was ok. Like I consented and I let him go so far. Then –"

Logan abruptly stood up, causing Kurt to stop and briefly look up. He was worried about what Logan might do now that he knew the full truth. Was he going to just walk out in disgust?

Instead, Logan went to stand directly in front of Kurt and put both of his hands on Kurt's shoulders. His grip was firm but not painful. "Look at me."

Kurt surreptitiously wiped his eyes before returning Logan's resolute stare.

"You are _not_ at fault. There is absolutely _no _excuse for Trieg's actions."

Kurt couldn't maintain Logan's gaze. They just didn't understand. "It wasn't just one time that I let him…. And Coach Trieg said that –"

"Whatever that bastard said has no bearing. You hear me?" Logan shook Kurt, trying to emphasize his point. "_None_ of what he said fucking matters."

"Logan," the Professor warned, which was enough to draw Logan's attention to his growing temper. He took a step back, seeing that his burst of anger had caused Kurt to draw more in on himself if that was even possible. Breathing deeply, Logan got himself back under control.

Wanting to get back on track and to find out how exactly the situation came to this, the Professor asked, "Kurt, you said that Trieg was being overly friendly. Can you please explain what you mean?"

Kurt nodded but didn't speak. It was just too difficult to start, to have to confess. He didn't want to start crying again.

Seeing that he needed prompting, the Professor started asking guiding questions. "How long has this been happening?"

"I-I guess since gymnastics started but he wasn't always so… intrusive."

"By overly friendly, do you mean physically?"

"_Ja_."

"Like how Logan just put his hands on your shoulders?"

Kurt shook his head. Logan had never approached him the way Trieg had. How could he have ever thought that what Trieg did was normal? "No, it was different. With different intentions."

"But then he grew more aggressive. Touching you."

Each question was harder and harder to answer. Like hooks digging into his chest and being slowly pulled apart. This time, Kurt only nodded in response.

"When he touched you, did he touch you on top of or under your clothes?"

Mortified, Kurt barely whispered out, "On top of." He couldn't look at either of them and instead studied his knees.

"Could you tell us where?"

"A-Along my…." Kurt gripped his legs tight. It was like a physical hurt having to reveal everything Trieg did. "Along my thigh… and higher." Just thinking about it, he could still feel his burning touch.

Logan's heavy breathing caused Kurt to look up at him. His fists were in such tight grips, his knuckles were white.

"Did he ever force you to touch him?"

An overwhelming shame engulfed him, causing a few more tears to escape. "…Just once."

"Just once is already too many." Logan's voice came out gruff but he didn't say anything else.

"Was there a reason why you felt obligated to allow him such leeway?"

Kurt just shrugged. His reasoning before now just sounded so irrational and inane.

"Please, try to explain."

"I dunno. I thought at first he was just being friendly in his own way. But then he started getting … bold." Kurt glanced briefly at the Professor before quickly looking away. "And he said I should be listening to him and how disrespectful it was not to. That I should trust him."

"Manipulative bastard," Logan spat.

"Strange," the Professor murmured.

Kurt looked over to him. So far, the Professor seemed to be remaining calm; his expression never wavered from composed, as if this was some normal, everyday occurrence. It somehow made him feel worse. Maybe it wasn't such a big deal. It's not like he was raped or anything.

"What's strange?" Logan asked.

Unaware of the turmoil his forced calm was causing, the Professor voiced his thoughts. "At first, it sounds like Trieg was trying to manipulate you, but then suddenly he turned to drugging you to force you instead. Was there perhaps a catalyst, something that happened, that would cause him to resort to such tactics?"

Trieg's veiled threat from Monday rang in Kurt's ears. "I went to talk to him about it. Tell him I didn't like it. He became forceful and… I pushed him off of me. He didn't like that."

"This was on Lance's suggestion, correct?"

Kurt leaned forward. He didn't want them to get the wrong impression of Lance. Not when Lance was trying to make efforts to change. "_Ja_, but don't blame him. I didn't tell him everything that Trieg was doing."

"We don't blame him, Elf. In fact, I'm pretty shocked at how much he seems to care," Logan said as he sat back down. "But, why didn't you say anything before? To us or anyone?"

Unable to put his reasoning into words, Kurt shrugged as he shrunk back into the chair.

Based on Kurt's reactions and what he said so far, the Professor could tell that Kurt already placed unwarranted blame on himself. While he understand Logan's confoundedness, he didn't want Kurt to feel any more unnecessary culpability. "This isn't something that is easy to discuss. With anyone. But I want you to know, that we're here for you. It doesn't matter that you couldn't say anything before. Or even if you feel like you can't say anything now. Just know that we're here to help."

Kurt didn't say anything in response.

They all sat there for an uncomfortable minute, all stewing in their own thoughts.

"Can I leave now?" Kurt had wanted to escape through the whole conversation but now seemed like a perfect time to make his exit.

The Professor sighed, not knowing what else to say that could help him. "Yes, unless there's anything else you'd like to tell us?"

A thousand thoughts ran through his head, but Kurt just shook his head no.

"Do your best to relax. When the others get home, Rogue will be bringing home make-up work for the rest of the week. They aren't yet aware of the true reason behind your absence."

The thought of having to tell the others churned his stomach but something else the Professor said caught his attention. "Rest of the week? But I figured I'd go back tomorrow."

"I don't want you there at the school while Trieg is still present. Until I can take care of Trieg, you will stay here."

Kurt was taken aback. Not that he necessarily wanted to go back and face Trieg, but he didn't want to sit around in his room. It would just lead to him remembering and thinking. Did the Professor think he was weak? He knew he should've done something before but he just couldn't. And now it seemed he had lost the Professor's respect. Maybe the Professor thought he was being too emotional about this. Taking it too hard.

Feeling slightly guilty, the Professor skimmed Kurt's thoughts. Kurt wasn't exactly forthcoming but the emotions reflected on his face caused him alarm. He was too worried that he had somehow made the situation worse. Luckily, Kurt was thinking in English as he tended to do when holding a conversation in said language. And it seemed he was right. Somehow, instead of conveying calm and sympathy, he'd projected an attitude of apathy and disappointment. He had to fix this.

"Please don't misunderstand. What happened was horrible. I, in no way, blame you. I don't think you're weak. And I don't think you're being too emotional. This situation isn't easily handled. I still don't want you to return to school yet, but it's not you that I doubt. Trieg snuck and surreptitiously drugged your water. Who knows what he might resort to next. I-"

"Don't," Kurt interrupted. "Don't read my thoughts."

The Professor sat stunned for a second. He was so concerned with saying the right thing that he hadn't thought about how invasive he was being. Before he could respond, Kurt had teleported away.

"Well, that didn't end well," Logan bluntly said as he shifted back in his seat.

The Professor sighed and rubbed his eyes. "No, it did not. He's right, though. I shouldn't have done that. I just wanted to –"

Logan waved him off. "No need to explain, Chuck. This conversation, the whole thing. We don't know what we're doing and we both messed up, but at least we tried."

"Do you think I made it worse?"

"Hard to say. Kurt's a tough one. But for someone really good at helping others out with their problems, he sure doesn't accept help easily."

"If only he had come to us sooner. Watching that video…" The Professor trailed off as images from it flashed through his mind.

"It was rough," Logan answered huskily. He looked over to the Professor's desk. Though he had erased all evidence of it from the school's systems, he knew the file still festered on the Professor's computer.

Breaking his thoughts away, the Professor brought to attention another matter. "I'm also worried that it seems he feels like it's his fault that this happened."

Logan tore his eyes away from the computer and nodded. "Yeah. That night he apologized. Actually apologized like he had messed up. I doubt much has changed since then."

"Knowing Kurt, he's not going to say anything about that. Or even bring up Coach Trieg again."

"Not likely, but we gotta make him. We gotta keep talking to him. Try and get through to him."

"What else can we do," the Professor said resignedly.

"You know, I've been thinking." The Professor looked up in surprise, not expecting an answer to his rhetorical question. "Though it may not help with the matter at hand, but I think we should – that is all the staff – should get child abuse training."

"That is an excellent suggestion. I was remiss to not even think about it. I just wish I'd thought of it earlier. Then perhaps we might've seen something."

"Don't know if it would've helped in this situation. I had no clue that anything was bothering Kurt. Hell, I didn't even know he and Lance were hanging out."

"It seemed none of us knew." The Professor shook his head. He wondered if he'd been lax in working with his students. It was good that he provided a school for them to master their powers, but that wasn't his sole purpose of starting it. He also wanted to provide a safe haven for mutants, a place where they got the support they needed that might be missing in their lives, whether because of their powers or not. Somehow that goal had gotten shunted to the side.

"You've been silent awhile. What're ya thinking, Chuck?"

"Just that perhaps we need to focus on building up relationships with the students. And not just in combat situations."

"They're teenagers. They're not going to be so gung-ho on opening up."

"I know," the Professor sighed, "as evinced by Kurt. But as also shown, it's important that we build a solid foundation of support. Maybe if one of us had that relationship with him, he would've said something sooner."

"He knows we're here for them. They all do."

"We can say that all we want, but I think we also need to start showing interest. Take the initiative." The more he spoke, the more the Professor began feeling convinced that this was the best route to reform his school to the best interest of his students. "This goes for all of our students, any current and future ones. We need to let them know that we're not just here for them, but we _want_ them to come to us."

"I get what you're saying, Chuck. But I dunno…"

"The least we can do is try."

"So just start holding conversations with them?" Doubt filled Logan's voice."Just go up to them and say any problems lately you wanna talk about? Been sexually harassed or assaulted lately?"

"Logan," the Professor reprimanded. "That is not what I meant."

"Sorry, Chuck. I know. And it's not a half bad idea, but maybe it'd be better if you left this to Ororo. I'm not so good with this stuff."

"You're selling yourself short. You have a pretty strong relationship with Kitty already."

"Yeah, cause she asks for advice. While others…"

"Not all students are going to be as open. We have to put forth the effort."

"Yeah. I'm just worried that I'll fuck things up. What if we can't get through to him?"

The Professor knew that at the heart of the matter, they were both worried about Kurt. They could make general plans all they wanted to, but ultimately, they already had a student that needed immediate help. He sighed, "As you said, we have to keep trying. If we can't, then we'll have to turn to outside help."

"There isn't any outside help for him."

With Kurt, it was always a sticky situation because of his appearance. The Professor had always worried about him being gravely injured as taking him to a hospital would be out of the question. "We'll cross that bridge if we get there. For now, I want you and me to be the ones to talk to him."

"Alright." There wasn't really much else Logan could say. He had his doubts on his capability but it was more important that he did right by Kurt. "But in the meantime, what're we going to do about Trieg?"

The Professor's face darkened as his voice held a glacial edge. "I will handle him."

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Trieg's office didn't hint at the underlying nature of the man. Hazy morning sunlight spilled in from the raised blinds behind his desk. Several frames holding pictures of smiling teams graced the wall while gleaming trophies glinted in a small glass case. A few heavy weights rested in a corner, an attestment to the man's dedication to fitness.

Professor Xavier took this all in while he waited for Trieg to join him. He began to study the pictures as he waited, wondering if other students seemingly so happy in the photos had also been violated by Trieg. As he eyes passed over a photo of a few students kneeling next to a soccer ball, he noticed one frame in particular that stood out. It hung slightly away from the grouping of pictures, placed conveniently closer to the desk. Sensing some sort of significance, the Professor turned to study the picture. It was of last year's gymnastics team with Kurt kneeling in front, seemingly laughing at something off camera. Shock quickly followed by dismay filled the Professor. Just how long had this been going on? The disparity between the happy Kurt in the picture and how he was yesterday – the Professor grew furious. It was one of the few times in his life where he found himself thinking of abusing his power. But he knew any type of action other than the one he had planned could make the situation worse.

He closed his eyes and calmly breathed for a few moments, reining in his temper. The click of the door opening caused him to open his eyes. He was ready for this confrontation. He had the upper hand, and he would make sure that he'd get the result he desired.

"Sorry to keep you so long…" Trieg trailed off, obviously unaware of the Professor's name.

"Professor Charles Xavier. Please call me Professor." The man didn't deserve the right to call him by his first name.

"Alright, Professor," Trieg said as he settled in behind his desk. "What can I do for you?"

The casual way that Trieg sat down, as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't done anything, incensed the Professor. The emotional chaos that Trieg had inflicted on Kurt, on them all… while Trieg just acted as if this was another humdrum day. That would soon change.

"You may not be aware, but I am Kurt's guardian." The Professor saw a flash of fear cross Trieg's face before it was quickly hidden. With that, he knew. He knew that Trieg was completely aware of his actions. Completely aware that what he did was a gross violation of his position as a teacher.

"Oh. Well then." The Professor watched Trieg stumble through his words. "Great. He's excellent at gymnastics. A great member of the team."

The Professor stared at him in return.

"Yes, really great. You should see him. In fact, our last tournament of the season is approaching. You should come."

The Professor continued to remain silent. His stare pierced through Trieg, willing the man to keep trying to act as if he hadn't molested his student.

"Of course, completely understand if you can't make it," Trieg said, a slight tremor of nervousness threading his voice. "But if you need any makeup work, you should go find his other teachers. They'll have what he needs."

If Trieg thought he could get rid of him that easily, he was sorely mistaken. By now, there could be no doubt that Trieg knew why he was there. Just before Trieg opened his mouth to fill the silence, he said, "I know what you did."

"W-What do you –?"

"No. You _do not_ get to play dumb." The Professor had had enough. "You sexually assaulted _my _student, and most likely would've done worse if not for another student's interference."

"I did no such thing!" Despite Trieg's denial, his face didn't hold any hint of surprise at the accusation. "I would never –"

"You did. On Tuesday, you went so far as to drug Kurt. Force yourself on him."

"What? That is a bald-faced lie!" Trieg stood up, hands slapping the desk as his chair went flying back.

"And now you're calling him and Lance liars?" The Professor remained steadfast in the face of Trieg's outburst.

"Are you really going to believe two teenagers over me, their teacher? They're just making up stories. Probably to get attention from you."

"Yes, yes I do believe them over you." The Professor's voice was steely and firm. He watched the result of his blunt statement. Trieg's visage darkened. His hands clenched into tight fists, shaking in bare anger.

"You know what, fuck you. I'm the adult. The teacher. I deserve that respect."

"You deserve nothing but my utmost disdain."

"Is that so? What about Kurt then?"

The Professor was confused, unsure of what Trieg meant.

"He doesn't listen. Doesn't follow my orders. Yet you listen to him."

"You seem under the impression that you can change my mind or turn me against Kurt."

Trieg's face twisted into a snarl. "He wanted it. That's right. He's the one that made me do it. The way he talks to me. Looks at me. I know he wants it. He let me touch him before. It wasn't any different this time. It's all his fault."

The Professor saw red. He couldn't believe the gall of Trieg blaming Kurt. "No!" His voice boomed in the room physically and psionically, causing Trieg to give a violent start. "No," he stated again. The release of his powers helped ease his fury but not lessen it. "I will hear no more."

"Can't stand the truth?" Trieg crossed his arms triumphantly.

"Your twisted truth. A truth I don't think you honestly believe. You know fully well what you did. In fact, you even took steps to ensure that Kurt couldn't resist you."

"I told him. I told him what he needed to do. He didn't listen. I was just helping him get what he wanted."

"You manipulated. Drugged, sexually harassed and assaulted him."

Whatever Trieg was going to say in response, the Professor didn't care. He cut him off before he even could refute the charges again.

"I will not allow you to harm Kurt again. This is my ultimatum. Resign from your job. You are to come nowhere near Kurt or any other student for that matter."

"Resign? Or what?" Trieg scoffed. "You have no proof."

A cloud passed over the sun, briefly casting the room in shadow. "Do I not? Not even a sampling of the water you drugged." While there was video evidence, it wouldn't be viable as proof due to the fact Kurt was uninducered in it.

Backed into a corner, Trieg played his last card. "I'll go public with what a freak Kurt is."

The Professor was done. This man would do anything to get his way, and the Professor wanted to hear nothing else he had to say. He hadn't wanted to resort to this, but Trieg left him no choice. Entering his mind, the Professor magnified his voice to almost a painful level. _You will do no such thing. You will resign and never come near the school or Kurt again. If you try to reveal him, if you dare to touch him or even talk to him again, I will not sit idly back. I'll reduce you to a sniveling invalid, incapable of thought beyond that of an infant ._It wasn't a threat the Professor was yet willing to follow through with, but Trieg didn't need to know that detail. "Do I make myself clear?"

Trieg's eyes were wide with disbelief. He gaped for a few seconds. "You have power too."

"Yes, and I am not adverse to using it."

Trieg , still dazed, stared forward as his mind wrapped around the idea of another person with some type of special attribute. How many of them were there? It took him a few seconds before he regained his composure. "I-…. I could go to the press and -"

The Professor cut him off, already anticipating his argument. "No one would believe you and now _you _are the one with no proof."

"B-But I need this job. I need the money and –"

"That is not my problem. You don't belong anywhere near a school or young adults." The Professor headed to the door, ready to take leave of the horrid man. "You are to leave by the end of tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? That's crazy. You're being unreasonable."

"I am being far more reasonable than you have the right."

Trieg slammed his palms onto his desk, breathing heavily for a second before biting out a sharp, "Fine" accompanied by an acrid glare.

_Tomorrow_, the Professor reiterated mentally to remind Trieg of his threat. Satisfied that he got his point across and the desired outcome, the Professor let the door click behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Note: The next chapter will probably take awhile as I'm still thinking of what scenes are needed to get to the next big thing.**


End file.
